the poetry nugget

time stretches, it seeps into my crevices, sates my drifting daydreams, escapes my grasp...

the world goes about its business, witness to violence and chaos, beauty and kindness. it does not pause to see faces, it does not wait to hear voices, it does not stop to taste bittersweet. it moves in fluid rotation, and long, lazy loops around the sun.

the drone of micromanagement, in quarter-hour installments, each created to contradict, they layer them, a cake, to celebrate. doubt becomes belief, own the fault, the pieces of the puzzle fall into a pattern, a plan, mean-spirited, worthy of a Scottish wife, with a complement of false concern. a blight of human kindness.

No words to express my sadness because he is gone too early; before all our tales told, before all our adventures shared, before all our poetry reworked in the confines of my car. I whisper to him inbetween the  hours,  when the sky is bruised  black&blue, to him,  on the other side...  

ultranervously,            in panic, ran away.       The demoralized young man         held on waiting,           biting his nails. chest, shoulders drooped.                 turned away walked off through the gate into the nearest bar,                    for a long time lost                                           

x, y intercepts the lines cross into infinity, transverse the tattoo, scar the wrist, vulnerable scabs newly formed, hot,  itch to be broken,  the blade slender, pinpricks of crimson  against porcelain, sweet pain

Poetry brought us together, friendship grew, side by side. I miss a turn or two,  among all our words,  there'll be more, next time. At the end of the evening, he extends his hand to mine, warmth to warmth, good night . He flicks the outside light, I beep in reply, our ritual complete, superstition satisfied, I drive away, believing he is safe inside. Beguiled by this foolery, I would not see him again.