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Mikey Bachman

Rookie - 181 Points (June 1,1991 / California)

California Skies


Come, let us take a ride into lonely summer nights
Where crickets chirp in sequacious melody
And foliage smooths into sidewalks of musk
Where trees dawn into an age of wiring
That fades into midnight's shapeless rust

We take this night drive in a rented Cadillac
forgetting that the point of leaving the hood drawn
is to become the wind and gaze upon the stars.

We are constellations, wrapped up in lines;
each node telling our stories one by one,
illuminations drawn on sand paper bodies like winter storms

what is the breeze to those who cannot feel?

Substance;
all that we are worth, we are
and all that we see is turned blind eye
when glaring at faces in pictures on the wall

They stare back at me.
They do not acknowledge me.
And I am not there
i
am not there.

What does it mean
to be alone
under
California Skies?

We walk daily to the beach to feel the salty waves
and taste the world beneath our feet,
Grains of sand stretching the spaces
between and into the webs of our toes

like borrowed time
leading away
and into sorrows chimes

is the wind not a feeling?

What is this world
if not a speck of dust?

And we are
a speck of dust:
floating,
breathing,
being.

We do not stand among you
pictures on the wall

we do not stand,

we drown

Submitted: Thursday, May 15, 2014
Edited: Thursday, May 15, 2014

Topic of this poem: alone


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