210

poem

We took the train past five o’clock
The sun was falling fast

Some rail line, between two rays
Of freeway overpass

There were two plays, one in her hand
Which slipped between the reel

Like old film grain, that magnet dust
Disintegrates the steel

Against the wave of dark
We made our way as one

Speaking in a language that to others
Must have surely seemed as tongues

There was a city to be scene
On the other side of town

The present though, was distant then
And is surely farther now

A sketchbook opened mirror hand
The classic photograph

A blur became a second end
The play of light turned daft

In stop frame pauses, a rustle breathed
Bringing dead leaves down

We made our way past five o’ clock
Into the silence of our sound

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