the sunrise and my innocence

when I was where I was

I was who I am without knowing

the not knowing was peaceful and quiet

like the house before I left for school in the last couple of years

sixteen and seventeen

catching the bus before anyone else's alarm

in winter some mornings were dark

I would first see the sun through the bus window

I would listen to music and close my eyes and the sun

would kiss me softly through the glass

my cheek was warm

and I could be where I was

closed in myself beside strangers forever

between here and there

not needing or knowing any better

or wanting more than the bus to keep going

to stay in the sunrise and my innocence for good.

my science fiction

the illusion falters and we find that we were never in control. so many silly choices between desire and laundry - plenty more to fuel my science fiction. the crowds follow tramlines and the clouds roll thick and heavy. I watch my dreams on the horizon fall yet a little further out of reach. maybe they’ll come back tomorrow. maybe I’ll be ready then.

another sentence

I remember something more than now: waking up to lightness and feeling less unwilling. hope. a new day was a chance before it was a sentence. maybe it can be that way again.

another bridge

let the phone ring out. I am trying to remember how to build words for thoughts to land on. they all pass like water now. maybe all we need is another bridge to fall to make a dam.

unfinished in the library

my brain is not my friend again. we’re both fed up with one another, close encounters in such close quarters for too long. I leave thoughts unfinished in the library to lie under a tree.

when I close my eyes I could be sleeping. when I sleep I’m only fractured dreams from waking up.

no standing sign

the supermarket swarms a little after dinner time. I tie my bike to the pole with the no standing sign. pigeons mind their own business on the sidewalk, a couple dozen or maybe more. someone thought to leave them a bowl of water, though they don't seem to care. I watch them peck the ground and under their wings. I wonder what I'd do in their place. they take to the sky and I take out my phone. 

rolling over

I stop and hold the boulder for the other ones to pass. sidestepping or rolling over? out of sight and focus either way. I let the other cyclists overtake, watch them speed through amber lights into the setting sun.

you call a little later from a room on the street I used to live. something else to miss and help commiserate my choices. I take you to the creek and let the stream surround your voice. time is water only ever passing out of reach.