Bird songs, break of light, a bed of broken shells.
Outside my window, the newly arrived Blue-Jay surfs the wind on the twig of a pine tree.
I posted a new short story to https://baykitty.com/short-fiction/the-maid-of-the-woods-2/
It is about a small town murder. Rated R for language and sex. You will enjoy it.
“Can I lure the sorrow from your eyes with a smile?” She asked.
Nosey head lamps and brazen horns,
The freeway hustle squawk of a night club on wheels,
Small towns wander,
Street Carnivals
And
Narrow alleys. They are no home to me.
A brief glance, lights
Somersault by the windows, a horn,
Suddenly, a shout, a radio-
Falls away reflection on reflection.
An abrupt hand gesture,
Gone.
The street lamps flicker over head
Beating hearts beating wings
To accompany me through this night.
Early morning,
Dark windows icily reflect my passing.
Will she remember me?
On that highway
Corridors of darkness
Open lonely beaches
Rolling tires
Whining road
Sing together to make a dream:
Hold close the road that
Pulls you on,
Sometimes
Swerves
To avoid your grasp.
Gone for a moment in its song,
I remember her scent, her scent after sex,
The high notes and the low.
I said a bit of freedom but could not forget
The glow of the lamp on her body,
Her breasts, her hands, her parted legs,
Air pours over my outstretched palm like the sea.
Ahead, the road continues unrolling,
Unevenly,
Sometimes,
Bunching into ribbon candy.
And the sun again
Eases, retiring behind a peaked roof
It is dark.
O Lord,
Take me back to those airier,
Earlier days
When the bursting sun could be explained
With bones and shells,
Teacups and magnets. Simple then.