not the 30th post

(or ode to blood on the tracks)

Well clouds part, and I see sadness in their smile. Winds blow east before they blow best, but in the middle you can take a rest.

She looked me over a half eaten plate. Grounded herself in steel, said goodbye and hello to a broken heart.

With the shock of forget, I walked down the dirty road. If I had a memory of each one, I’d have mapped the atlantic from the start.

But now days turn into lonesome nights, fraught with love as the sun transforms them into the lives of everyone. I dress myself each day as well as I can, but always miss a button on my way to the top.

We meet in the park, dance in the gazebo, so close I can hardly stand. My hand on her shoulder, my mouth next to her ear, I tell her I’ll always be here.

The Gazebo’s a closing, the lights coming off, we walk down the stairs, stare at each other one last time, cause that’s all that’s bright. She takes my hand in hers, rests it on the rail; says that light may reflect, but she’s standing right here.

My minds a racing, chasing down the last shining mine. She’s walking past me now, into the nighttime that’s gone bright.

Me, I stand by the Gazebo, looking after that sterling sunshine. Looking at the trees touching heaven, looking at the moon blessing everything, looking down at myself, and moving.