20170425 - The Abalone

from by Paleo

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Ashing in the abalone, learning to play dominoes,
we’re smoke and mirrors and animals disappearing as we close
the telescope of time around the table where we lay the bones
and turn off our phones.

The walls are hosting hoola hoops and groups of paper lightning bolts
cut out from retro porno mags a picture worth a thousand volts,
and through the blinds the streetlights white as sails on distant sailboats
in a frozen moat.

We’re not M.C. Escher’s picture of the hand drawing the hand.
We are mansions wishing we were castles made of sand,
three beasts of burden with no brand, no man to tell us where to stand
when they go dancing.

Would you rather fly or walk through walls or be invisible,
be rich or smart or strong or loved or just plain irresistible?
I used to say that death was best as far as superpowers go –
the abyss bestows.

But I’m glad to be alive even when tears claw at my eyes,
even when holes grow in the stolen suit of me, my much too-small disguise,
even when the lions and lionesses of my pride
go into hiding.

The day drinks up the night and the night pours out the day,
erasing and revising like the tide does with a wave.
Hello, goodbye, they’re both the same. We’re never close or far away,
We’re just waiting.

Don’t wait for me.
Don’t wait for me.


from The Song Diary II, released April 16, 2017



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