The tears run up my spine,
by hydraulic action, somewhat less than divine,
this morning’s twilight hides,
remembrance.
A light well etched, on burning screen.
Return receipt, message rejected by domain
a mailbox empty as a vacant home,
occupied by meth fiends.
The world is thawing, early spring,
the air is heavy, with regret.
A smoke tinged murky darkening cloud.
The waitress swaying through the throng,
balancing french toast and silk pie.
Through clouds of smog.
Remembrances cease.
The crowd’s din returns, this tavern of ruin,
its smoke stained timbers overhead.
and the heavy scent of oil fried food.
March 11th 2007, journal note;
scribbled on the back of a Perkins receipt.
Danielle was serving, and you my friend,
were still breathing, before the end,
handful of pills, one autumn day,
and a fading light,
though in my dreams,
I see your underlook, like a mourning puppy,
head slightly lowered, gazing up,
and a smile, veiling pain,
a melting snowflake on a palm.
etc.
(copyright Kamal S., Dec 2011)