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It slowly melts against the tawny
color that almost resembles whiskey:
the two of us dancing in front of the
mirror on one good leg we imitate
feelings that remind us of winter sky
over maine or miami minus stray dogs:
watching a glass turn into a plastic cup
you mug for me sniffing out what's left
of the indelible mark of darkness so light
a candle instead farther than we can see:
remember she remarks you're supposed
to be a night sky & I'm just a shabby coat:
then later we paint the town large enough
for one traffic light & a warm oven on a
journey between any given point north by
northwest leaving only a few footprints:
& when we finish I put the paint brushes
in my hip pocket or pack them away as
mementos before they all gather dust.
copyright 2004
Maurice
Oliver |
