I am not gone.
I rest in yellow.
I rest on all of your roads.

Lying still.
Waiting.

But my eyes
are no longer closed.
They tunnel and pierce
the waiting horizon.

For when you come,
even as a mirage,
I will know it is you.

The radio counts miles in static and song.
Three hours of worn-out melodies
and a preacher selling salvation
for nineteen ninety-five, shipping included.

A beautiful billboard lawyer leans forward,
red lips inviting, blouse open
like she's selling more than legal services.
Need a lawyer? Janet Stone will fight for what you deserve.
Justice comes easy, she claims, just call the number.

Time rolls under my tires
like my mother's worn rosary beads.
Exit signs listing faded towns I knew,
before I stopped coming home
for Christmases, birthdays, funerals:
Millersville, Cedar Falls, etc.

The rich green hills fold and unfold
just as I remember,
etched and carved
by this black ribbon highway
that funnels me home.

Half an inch of cold coffee left,
the rest bleeding my white shirt brown.
Twenty miles to the Pine Fork Gas-N-Go
the billboard says,
but I'm tired,
running late,
and wearing my mistake.

Mile marker 247:
I'm thirty minutes from faces
that will ask about my life
like it's the weather.
Safe. Surface. Polite. Prying.

Nothing that acknowledges what we both know.
The only reason I would come back home
is currently at Blackstone Mortuary Services Inc.

Wearing her Sunday best.
Clutching her rosary beads.
Eyes closed.
Lying still.

I sit on one side of a splintered park bench,
its weathered plaque telling me
Harold Finch loved this spot
before dying.

My finger traces
my watch's sharp cracked crystal.
Scratches layered on scratches,
hard to tell if it's three o'clock or four.

Horns blare,
and sirens wail,
the city pushing through.

An ant scales my shoe-mountain.
This day's Everest.
His tiny legs a blur of purpose,
unaware of the danger that awaits.

Across the path,
a neglected hollow metal general
reigns over his dry, rusty fountain,
pigeons crowning him white.

Gumballs lurk in the lawn,
tiny maces waiting for tender feet.
Once, one got me.
I was seven.
My soda and tears
staining the soil brown.
Mother's embrace saying,
it's okay, it's okay.

Grass offers itself
to all that pass.
Two lovers lie back,
and melt into its willing green.

My foot pins and needles.
I shift against the hard bench.
Everest sits empty.

A lone bee zigzags past my shoulder,
hunting flowers
summer promised
but autumn stole.

Above, a hawk circles,
a black speck drifting
in empty blue.

Below, a squirrel stashes acorns
for a winter it will never see.

And a single red leaf
falls upward
into the blue,
unaware it is dying...

But I see
its shadow dancing.

echo me close to your silence
trace me near to your sighs
soften me with your edges
and fall me into your eyes (could this be real, so real, so real)

melt me into your yearning
blur me into your need
where walls become like water
and this broken begins to heal (could this be real, so real, so real)

and fall me into your eyes, your eyes, your eyes.
almost alive, alive

color me with your whispers
paint me almost your dawn
where going is no longer coming
and leaving's almost gone (could this be real, so real, so real)

dance me through your defenses
float me through to your pain
pour me through your edges
till stone turns soft as rain (could this be real, so real, so real)

melt me into your yearning
blur me into your need
where distance becomes surrender
and stone begins to feel (could this be real, so real, so real)

and fall me into your eyes, your eyes, your eyes.
almost alive (could this be real, so real, so real)

stone walls falling
still morning breaking through
every step forward
almost into you (could this be real, so real, so real)

and fall me into your eyes, your eyes, your eyes. almost alive (could this be real, so real, so real)…
     and fall me into your eyes, your eyes, your eyes. almost alive…
          let's dance, let's dance, let's dance me into your eyes,
              your eyes, your eyes…
                   forever spinning into your eyes, your eyes, your eyes…
                       i'm almost alive, alive, almost alive…
                          i'm almost alive, alive, almost alive…

I remember.
Sweaty palms,  
Cherry bombs,
Sunday Psalms,
Your whoopin’s mom.
And I remember you...

Summer breeze,
Swaying trees,
Trembling knees,
Friday tease,  
Searching so
desperately.  
I remember you...

Do you feel the rain?
Yesterday’s rain.  
Yesterday’s rain.

You...
Met you cussin’
on the old bus,  
Lovely and delicious,  
Sketchy and suspicious.  
You - addictive and contagious…

Hoping you would notice.
Know this,
I remember you...

You..,
Thinking I’s a wise guy,  
Beautiful and wide eyed,
Giving me the side eyes,  
Wearing faded tie dye,
Ripping on your side
guy.    
I remember you...

Do you feel the rain?
Yesterday’s rain.  
Yesterday’s rain.  

I was really reckless.  
You were simply luscious,  
I could not resist us.  
I think you
stole my necklace.

Know this,
I fell in love
with you.  

I got your number, baby.
Dancing in the summer baby.  

But, you -
not falling
too...

Do you feel the rain?
With love there is
no justice.  
Just this
pain.  
And yesterday’s rain.  
Dancing in
yesterday’s rain.  

Yesterday’s rain.  
Yesterday’s rain.  
How, I fell in love
With you.

From scattered
grains of sand,
dunes arise.

And from a single seed,
forests grow.

Neurons fire,
blind to the
symphonies they sing.

Droplets form rivers
with no single drop
Aware.

And your touch
ripples silence
into storm