she lives in a magazine, full time
just adjacent to the impulse buys at the front counter
she watches the vagueries and well-defined lines of human life pass before her eyes
safely tucked behind bent metal wire
beyond a name - just a smile - making the most of her two dimensions.
a baby's wandering oceanic eyes -
then a careful old woman
visibly loosening her grip,
nestling a bit closer up against the Great mystery
water drips from somewhere in the storeroom - but you can only hear that at night when everyone's gone home.
a neon light buzzes blue - remembering when its molecules were a cicada or antelope fur - or the creaking bark of a blue spruce, making room for the thin lines of water determined to work their way back up into the heavens
clouds are born
and the asphalt becomes wet - emitting a curious odor.
She greets the morning crew
as the slight morning breeze filters through the automatic doors
and points her in a slightly new direction
this time facing the chewing gum display
'I travel light' she says...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Inspires one to follow his/her thoughts up to the level of clouds, stay there awhile, slip into the wind's machinery. Awesome stuff, dude. keep on, sjg ~ ~