Tuesday, August 7, 2007


I hold up a mirror,
But only shallow breathing comes.
A cross country trip
Could only have widened the distance
Between you
And your shadow, no?
What would he have done
You in California,
He ever wider in your wake?
Though time was caught,
He's closer to your feet,
Closer to his black intent.

Aren't we always chasing selves
In rental cars?
Maybe you can still catch
That racer on the hill,
Those boys who used to yell
Go, Lance, Go on sunnier days.
You waved back over a shoulder;
Your shadow cannot wave.
He knows only the drip drip
And the steady hum and beep
And days that forget you one by one,
Edges glowing, nearing eclipse.

No comments: