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the moment i saw her
she haunted my mind,
a vision in sepia,
with color implied,

and pupils still dancing
in league with her smile
like she was still breathing -
- not frozen in time.

it left me to wonder
what must it be like
to bear such a hunger
and shine such a light?

i wanted to ask her
what lingered inside -
- what flame lit the pilot
that shone in her eyes.

in dreams i still travel
through decades gone by
to beg for an answer
she’ll never confide;

she only informs me
it’s no good to try,
however i chase her,
she’ll never be mine.

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there’s a girl who inspires me,
and her smile ignites me like a fuse.
if only i would let my heart speak
with the voice it longs to use,
maybe i could find the courage
to expose this subtle fire,
instead of pacing through my own head,
tripping over broken wires.

*
(an acknowledgement to the unnamed muse, as well as to the Jason Isbell tune that made the rhythm seem to work and the Whitman line that keeps getting stuck in my head.)

*

today I felt the need,
the need to move away;
this place is much too close
and reeks of yesterday.

you say I should prefer
to outlast, to endure
– not clamor to escape
the demons at the door;

but it’s not the same as running –
there’s a diff’rence between flight
and the things you have to do
to get back to the light.

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Last night in bed,
staring into the darkness,
seeing my life flash before me -
a barrage of color, sound, sensation
I hardly recognize today -
the squandered moments rushed back,
markers of each intersection
where my course was set
Then there were others with no signs,
just subtle warnings
of what lay ahead.

And I was the driver,
listening to the music
and tapping rhythm on your thigh,
cresting a hill on the expressway,
seeing the disabled car
half an instant too late.

How is it we so easily
dismiss the peculiarity of the moment,
as if any other
could have taken its place?

Perhaps it’s because
we want to believe,
(as you often said)
every moment,
each opportunity,
is self-orchestrated;
like the universe
is a willing mistress
waiting for our call.

But just before the break of day
as you lay with me,
resting peacefully,
silk hair on my arm,
soft breath on my neck,
I was someplace else,
wondering what I’d done
to have found myself
in a moment like that one.

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