Give me a wonder, a word.
Give me a silent reason without silence.
Give me a moment a shared second or two.
Give me your hand. And I will try to tell you…
because even the greatest author cannot hide the presence
of the final page, of saying goodbye to a friend.
And I was and will always be something to remember him by.
Can the stark resemblance fade. Can the words change?
Can the harrow of another day fade. Can a word change?
Can a child… play. The toys of my childhood. No lament.
Except the moment and then. I was a child.
And the ocean was never kinder that day.
Should I say what I say. There is a child
who once wanted to go to Disneyland.
Who wanted to see tomorrow, before it was stolen
and laid back and…
Silence.
In three shadows they formed and in one they gathered.
And the air was masked with sunshine
and rain filled the air.
Soft dry. Where the burnt sounds
of touching the dirt and dust covered pavement. I went
inside were the books and pages laid
scattered and voices were carried in the wind. Was it something
I said or did. I change the station and ask again.
A two by four is my closest friend.
A sparrow mocks upon the wind.
And a desert form black and beast do forget…
Two thoughts emerge. Two roads diverge.
I hold the thought in my hand.
What is certain and what is lost.
What is the single reason for being.
I turn the words against the time.
Les serviettes sens. De te faire ?
Je non donc laisse rien des chalets d’Andorre la sage.
September 