nostalgia

Home free
Dusting off the last remnant
Of what's behind me
There's a bowl to wash my face in
A mirror to check for perfection
A clock to count the minutes by
Clothes to wear, but I don't even try

Like Lot's wife, I risk a marble fate
And look behind at all that's left
Frozen with visions of a yester-date
Moments hazy with happy warmth
And incandescent elation—
A self-pronounced damnation

Ticker tape skitters across the road
Tangling with leaf litter and gutter mold
Old coke cans half-crushed cram in corners
I step outside and join the silent mourners

I wonder what well my tears are drawn from
What cold and seeping reservoir
What deep and dangerous black hole

All reminders ancient that sparkle
A raven's eye view of glittering
Distances deepens between reality
And the distractions I cling to
Metaphysical poisons and dust
Broken glass and red-gold rust

Haphazardly stumbling
Then full out running
Away from the claws that are clinging
Away from tear-like acidity
A raw cry barely breathed
A hand grasping empty air
A being that is me.