I close my eyes in the far side of Frank,
Steam billowing from the oatmeal potion beside me.
The fat, falling raindrops outside gradually fade to nothing
Clinking glasses, scuffling feet
Fade away into the hum of a sprawling nebula.
The journey of rediscovery is a lightless corridor with tracks
Still fresh from the time before.
The scent still rings in the air, from the bird of paradise
You’re trying to re-acquaint yourself with.
A stray plume, barking scarlet
Compels me forward, step by step
Like breaking an April breeze into particles
And putting the afterimage back together, I’m searching
In a game of hot and cold
For my Corinthian foothold, my unshaking center
Laying dormant in a field of resolute wildflowers
That shine like their own suns, with expletives for colors.
With this vision still fresh in my head,
I step out of the building
And embrace the quiet drizzle waiting for me.
For a second I can swear there’s a shimmer of vermillion in every droplet.