Monday, February 6, 2012

I-27

I want to be a highway when I die
Not in the next life
But in the one you live now
My bones, white washed by sun
Massaged by pick-up trucks
Will strong and steady hold you up
And guide you on your way
I want to be a highway when I die

The Past Is In Our Presence

I

Nostalgia rests in dusty places,
Patient
Slow
Unwavered.
It faithfully waits for years--
a lifetime--
For you to make a move.

II 

If we are two separate people,
Save little DNA,
How do I see your face in mine
More every passing day?