I-95

It’s a bright day, brilliant colors all struck from sunrays

And the night which followed was quiet,

Cicadas ain’t out yet, I’m still figuring out how I hear the same sounds

Miles away and still hearing ringing and shouts.

 

I could never make sense how the skyline is loud

How the blue feels like it’s fighting the sun in a bout,

I watch it from a window while academic papers are beginning to crowd up

Four years and mirrors won’t tell me the state of me now.

 

I seen big smiles and I seen bigger frowns

And I seen jewelry made up out of dented up crowns and rings

And

My ears can’t hear the birds sing anymore as if my mind is duller than Victorian glossed floors.

 

But it’s all crashed and caved in

The countryside I used to wish to reside in

It took my brother

I know it’s taken many others

To be too prepared, it will not bother.

 

That’s the curse of the light; when you give your eyes up and you can’t even fight

Something intangible grabbing at your entire life as if it’s nothing, it’s weightless

You can’t see it but your soul is dragged to the sky.

You won’t be the one to ask how though everyone else believes you will,

You didn’t predict the outcome until

Your eyes rolled back and you’re given slack

And you wonder why it’s no issue to climb the steepest hills now.

And the sky wasn’t so bright until now,

I imagine you asked why before I asked how

But I still see your face deep in some crowds.

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Comments

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Frederick Kesner

Fri 27th May 2022 07:04

I like how the feeling of movement, like motoring on a highway, culminates in a centering image like a crowded place in which a face is still seen! This is good. Thanks for sharing, Caleb.

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