Side to Side and Out the Top

Part I: On Carving West

As the train rolls through impoverished neighborhoods built on factory skeletons,
a young man taller than his three friends, lines up and hurls his mighty ice creation
towards cars gliding by arm in arm.

A dull thud sounds beside my window.
Seconds ago, if glass ceased to exist I'd have been hit.
I then would insist, as I should have still,
that we grind to a halt to begin a childhood war
with the only casualties being ears gone rose red.

They were thoughts freed by sunset,
or dreams which have yet to be dreamt.

Gladly, I know no difference between the two.

Part II: Angled East

Seasons passed too fast. So quick, in fact, that one
hadn't moved before it's follower came through.

Crunchy still cold snow, leftover, now covered
in a wave of glass, a shimmering blanket
dotted with trees and power line poles
which are trees we shaved who stand again
rootless, naked under the falling sun.

The glass grows endless strings of orange and purple
and their sister colors go running, sprinting
from horizon to eye all finishing first.

Part III: Rising Beside

A day with my kin, as free as life imagined.
“The setting sun is costing me tears. I'm paying in full.”

“Our mistakes gave us these colors. This show is made by our history.”

Together we admire our prism shaped scar
which we cut into every sky
so it shows before every night.

As with all found in moments growing closer to death,
it is too simple to be bad, good or anything at all.

Part IV: Exit Through The Excuse Of Time

On a city street take a breath as no one
will mind anything but passing time.

All will be solved before
the ticking of the last clock stops.