Images
flash in my head.
A passing scene,
no explanation.
An empty room,
a restaurant,
a broken car,
burning California.
The might-have-beens,
the never-was.
Expectations
tepid and contaminated.
Eyes shut now
were open then.
The memory
always Midas standards.
A mountain top,
a valley floor
made crystalline
in winter.
Never made an eye,
just sat there quietly
remembering.
Smoke at noon
thicker than blood.
A poster child
for motherhood.
Dirty blonde,
fake as they come.
A tragedy
in daylight.
Skeletons
and racing tires.
Afternoons
in a bottle.
Memories
that were never me.
My mind’s eye
is a raven.
HG – 2018
