SOMETIMES IT CAN TAKE A YEAR TO BE TRUE

SOMETIMES IT CAN TAKE A YEAR TO BE TRUE

It was inconceivable
that the horizon
could be ablated
by the paving
stones of anxiety
foisted upon the
gravelled stairway and
ceramic triangles that
we passed against.

Charlotte was a woman
of strange complexion whose
ambiance was that of
a cat trapped in
a fire escape of
its own projected delusion.

I knew her
well that spring
and June and
on that Friday
morn in blessed
dawn she was
the best thing
that ever happened
to her and
I cannot recall
my problems at
that state other
than to say
we had a
great time there.

The autumn leaves fell
by the gate and
slipped through the mist.
Time has no meaning
to fruit. Nothing bothers
them so it seems.

I found a
woman too I
heard her say
stop dreaming you
lush we are
not in May
so have a
drink on me
if you believe
in nothing he
wrote can be
heard but fleeced.
If I could just
go back to that
autumn week and all
the tables and chairs
that shone so brightly
for her glorious madness
and upbeat tortured serenity.