on the mountain, friday night

 .

we’re talking about substance,
tools you need to build a house,
temperature falling &
wrapped in my fleece, i say:
the weaker the material,
the more creating skillz and phantasy it takes,
but we’re to live with what we got,
sandstone, not italian marble maybe,
fir instead of oak & you can’t change
the basics—

we’re sitting amidst ruins,
bricks torn down by years of
carelessness &
is it worth rebuilding?
are we open to define– anew?

“i’ll never change completely”, i say, “i can
in some ways, but there’s a certain
core that’s i and always was–
you have to think about if i’m the partner,
that you want to live with”, so have i,

night falls on us, unspectacular,
just by the fading of light,
a group of teens ignites a fire for a barbecue,
on the radio from the car behind us,
spanish tunes,

the wooden bench feels rough
beneath my fingers & i think this is
adventurous somehow, a good thing
if you’re facing ruins is,
that much is possible
if you don’t mind the work it takes,
and if you dare to dream

.

the OpenLinkNIght bar will be tended by the wonderful Natasha Head today, come write a poem and join us at 3pm EST when the dVerse doors swing open

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