Unlocked.
gathering woolly thoughts
feeling warmth from a faraway place
stretching tired limbs and wiping the last tears
picturing holding you
watching the sun cross the sky
sharing ideas and thrilling with colors
we ebb and flow
ethereal lasting longer than corporeal
no odes suffice
nor bawdy limericks
when there’s deep heart and beauty
love and hope prevail
no darkness can completely cover such light
bunched denim propels thought to bicycles
picnic under the stars only worked for Fitzgerald
straw men with fast hats rode clean
gas station attendants played banjos for company
copper keys on green necks
opened secret gardens long thought dead
sweet candy contraband revels in a cause
twirling calliopes steamed town’s window shoppers
thoughtful rodents hoard ink
somewhere waxed mustaches danced
Rolodex flip-booking characters
replacements a dime a dozen
mimeograph and underwriting
coded filthy carbon missives
Remington ribbon spelling lust
coffee rings on Formica almost wipe off
newspaper funnies stretched thin
flasks in side metal drawers wait
hat rack is full
gloves have been buttoned
running fingers down the girdle seam
trousers become tight
knocking off before 5
head to the seedy bar a few blocks over
throw back some belts
light some cigarettes
banter is golden
eyes go where fingers itch to feel
there’s a motel next door
let’s get our coats
slide on over here along that worn vinyl booth
can’t wait to touch any part of you I can reach
we’ll try not to spill the coffee
(at least not more than the cranky waitress with too much makeup did)
let’s whisper behind the laminated menu
greasy sweet words of endearment
while jukebox junkies troll for gems
nobody notices love in a diner
not with all the faux vibrancy and chrome
or gleaming cracked floors and disinfected condiments
we’ll laugh amid the inevitable french fries
build towers with packets of sugar and draw hearts in spilled salt
wink through asking for the check
tossed and turned
another night of twisting in my bed
thoughts of tangling
our limbs like knotted tree roots
rising above cracked earth
reaching for sun’s warmth
fresh with possibility
drinking in morning
The Word Rummager 