the stars look so right
but I'm a lonely place tonight:
closed signs already gone up
in the windows;
ferris wheel swings randomly
at each halfhearted gust of wind
cotton candy has spun itself
into some hardened clogs
down in the machine
even the waves have messed up-
their synchronicity;
coming at the wrong time
breaking each others patterns up
and if you tried to paint this
the paint would run down,
mixing into the ocean
creating a flamboyant paisley mess.
i'd like to clear this canvas
and start over again:
paint all in shades of white,
because only the sun
has any color now-
just before it plunges
into the sea again.
and every time I think
must be the last time, again-
I always forget,
and then I cry salty, acrylic tears
to think that the sun is gone away
forever- so many tears;
of so many lovers,
over so many years
that I think the sea
must once have been made
entirely of tears;
and though I have faith
that the sea will never become
a stagnant thing,
only grudgingly
does it ever give up it's dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem