Living as you do in California , I'm not surprisedto read you've fallen for the partly cloudy girl and her overcast eyes.
She flashed your life like lightning, left you blind-struck, deaf-sided
tingling from all the extremities you never realized you had until
the moment her smile catching yours
held captivated across a smoke-filled room.
You told me that the taste of success never rested easily
in the corners of your mouth,
rather left behind a coppery flavor not entirely unlike fear.
How you'd swallowed it deep , washed down with hard liquor
and soft lies telling yourself that soon,
the burning days would end-- and by night
rain would soak through you like communion,
rehydrating everything.
I never understood your forecasts, living here
where bright light is a cherished rare metaphor.
But as you so thoughtfully reminded me
in our last correspondence
someone has to love the sun.
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Comments: 23
I think it reads beautifully. The chosen words are smooth and flowing. No areas that trip you up and make you falter while skimming through it.
John - Yup, it's a prose poem. I do write poetry in addition to all the other stuffs I write.
Thanks everyone!
Laura where are you to answer??? We are lost without you. OK I am lost here.
Slow connection. Ugh.
You have a very wide and diversified talent. Very nice and thought provoking.
No, this one isn't about Michael. This was inspired by a friend of mine from California, who was telling me about the weather out there, and a girl he'd fallen for.
rehydrating everything.
I love that... now off to read your other articles... you are obviously very talented.
Living as you do in California , I'm not surprised
to read you've fallen for the partly cloudy girl and her overcast eyes.
But I was disappointed to have it veer away from the weather into smoke filled rooms and coppery flavors. That weakend the effect the opening had for me. I'd have been happier with just this-
Living as you do in California , I'm not surprised
to read you've fallen for the partly cloudy girl and her overcast eyes.
I never understood your forecasts, living here
where bright light is a cherished rare metaphor.
But as you so thoughtfully reminded me
in our last correspondence
someone has to love the sun.
You have a great ending line too. I'd have liked to see the theme adhered to a bit more.