Forty three: northbound
on a fretless whim,
wind licks chills down my spine.
I stare my soul into it
the boundless horizon line.
The music loud
so heart can hear it.
My lips churn a deeply longing melody
to play the dread away.
Against the orange city haze
I search for her wisps:
the mother sky.
She sings her loudest tonight.
The parking brake crunches
Now lumbering, saltless waves
consume the conscious pale.
The sea and I seem to rhyme.
On a line between water and beyond
I see her dancing.
A taste of nature's finest art:
one night only
and the tickets are free.
My feet tread their own path
in any direction but away
as if my sand swayed steps
would make any difference to infinity.
Chaotic energy collides inside and over
washes a familiar feeling; but tonight, I
have been gifted its name: nostalgia…
for the now.
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