Friday, August 4, 2017

judith

jPayne 2©17 4aug

i like feeling it
a little sorry
for myself,
i'm best when blue


i'm warm in melancholy
when rain is foreign cool


and when
the sky is blue too
it's an imagination


humani
they don't know escape
they bustle in afraid
frog and bird in branches
the large leaf surrenders like rooftops


i stand along time
the grocery line
stores emptied
like a race
i speak with patient elderly


"where do they all go?" i say
is there some hurry
that busy stoplight isn't waning
the star will still rise on Friday


judith regenberg
we remembered then
conversations when
there was nothing else to do


what are connections
sticks of dynamite
in a sand pile
we played


i looked her up
in the eyes
they are dark
bluer than any storm


jPayne 2©17 4aug