memory bisque

memory bisque

the hot glow of metal,
running loose
beyond the window,
brings back holidays:

a kaleidoscopic L.A. freeway,
glinting sun gold and teeth white.
mine to visit,
never mind to hold.

the baked calamity of Faro,
all sparse white barns
and unfinished sentiment.

and the long, low
trumpet moan of Atlanta airport,
sat hunched over a drink.
the Georgia moon my only friend.

this train means motion.

a heart bruised
notion of movement.
or,

an alignment
with hope.