the day winds-down, now nearly crawling;
the Sun carrying a bag of today to dump
slowly on Hawaii and call it tomorrow.

captured, the winds carry too my words,
passions in those words; words to my Mama,
words when [at 14] i accepted Christ.

and bicycles still race the colors off,
as soon they lean on their side and sigh,
handle-bar kissing the same spot for years.

and jeans getting tighter and more faded;
sunlight flimsyies all aflutter as the breeze
brings me India's yesterday. i smell calcutta.

a good man fighting a never-ending battle;
the opponent: acquired taste for life.
just as you spit it out, you savor too late.

09/08/2011

Posted on 09/08/2011
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