..and the cherries are not really the point

it’s a rainy day &
biting cold bleeds from the road
into the car,

my route runs straight
along the wall, i

SCCraTTTCChhh

my elbows heavily,

it is too CLOSE!!,
Damn!!
WAY
too close! just

// B R E A T H E //

again–

ratcheting up the window, i think
of the waffles at IKEA,
whipped cream–
warmth–

& cherries in the color of a sun,
that dips his hips into the sea
at nightfall–

still can feel the sweetness even though
i didn’t taste, i’d
love to–

weird as it sounds,

i stand there,
watching–
knowing–

even if the customs agent waves me through,
even if they don’t ask for my passport,
even if i’m dying on the road,

there are borders we should never cross,

i’m gonna find a river somewhere close,
a bench to mourn the possibilities,
and that should do,

(still breathing)–

with a piece of chalk, i’m drawing lines
across the pavement, then
take off my shoes &

hopscotch through the world
i know, and know
i need to–

get to know myself

again

.

over at dVerse we’re going to cross some borders with our pens today… and it’s my pleasure to tend the poetics bar..  see you 3pm EST