Sunday

ssshhhh
a sunday afternoon
blanket of laze spread on the grass
moments linger in the lemonade
waiting for answers
they settle at the bottom
with the pulp

old pictures
reconstruction of things past and mostly gone
save for wishes
that our spheres of knowing
may have overlapped
when years were still being wasted
on our youth
struggling with chemicals
buried hope

deep in regress
these poems go
by the third wave it turns for the surface
"i need some air"
the depths
will crush my poet lungs

slowly i rise
breaking the stillness
breaking the wait


8/26/01