Sunday, December 13, 2015

Seafaring in Ohio

Pulled into the lot
Of a big old church
To read some poems I bought.
Rolled down my windows
And lit a cigarette;
Stared at the mottled clouds.
The air smelled like the ocean
Though I was in the Midwest,
And the breeze made me wish
I had brought a jacket.
The poems were just words;
They didn't take me anywhere.
I just sat in my skin,
Listening to the sound
Of my own breath and the cars
Whizzing by on wet pavement.
Seems like there's no holy places
Anymore. Seems like every place
Has its own ghosts. Seems like
I bring mine with me and they
Rattle their chains and I do
My little dance for them, light
Another cigarette and turn my eyes
Back to the poems that don't take
Me anywhere,
And the smell in the air
Takes me further
And further
Into the ocean.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I can relate to this poem. My senses have taken me to my past often and sometimes I don't even know where but a happy place.