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gasoline

Id forgotten the smell of gasoline. Billowing sleepily violently from those beautiful rusted oil drums. Burnt Sienna and Royal Blue. Blood red of my frozen fingers the way cold metal felt on fingernails. And grey. The slate of soggy beaches here a boot peeks out from pebbles there a broken glass orb coated thinly in decaying fishing net.

Blue and yellow and grey and red and the colors that might have seeped into your last dreams that night I didnt know you well but wish I had felt I had wondered if you knew me too. Tired Joni Mitchell eyes the way they closed finally sleepily violently. Like a cloud. Here a finger pinks out from slate blanket. Four days of silence. But you might have been worth more than you thought. Still in our hearts. We thought of you fleetingly. And maybe you were right. After all -

And when you come back well have to make you laugh. Silently smilingly the way you hid your face.

And I draw back your hand.

In my thoughts.

The last of you.


*we loved you terri*

4:10 p.m. - 2005-02-15
2 comments

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