Saturday, May 23, 2009

Waiting to Pass

Hazy waiting for the coming,
the domestic goddess is weary;
all that scrupulous scrubbing,
paper towel waxing and bleach...
lavender for the scenting.

A slow steady disappearance
of memento and souvenir
of the permanent.

Give me a pink slip,
I'm ready to fly
all possessions 
in a duffle bag on wheels
in peace, love, and rocking.

I've learned the art of patience,
tempered at times, but all
in the mastery of wile.

When there's nothing to do
in the making of accumulation,
the desire of the heart calls,
dare it be cluttered
in stuff and mortgage... I think not.

Release me from
this path of rightness-
it was good, but my wings
are beating in the rhythm
of gypsy... the future is waiting.

Each day to be plaited
as a rite of passage,
moment over moment,
wonder over write,
shuddering over shutter,
me and my rebels... a knotly trio.

Deliver us from convention-
we're ready to meet
the milky way, prickly desert,
red mountains under shy sun,
beaches with nary
a beach ball umbrella.

Shiver me timbers
in redwood and mist...
Rainier from a crying forest,
heartland, badlands, wetland,
dusty bowl of wheat and dive...

This highway of now... too slow
for the jive travelers
of a chartreuse dream.

Let us loose,
we're all revved up
in bated wait;
ready to pass...

All signs point to goooo and daddy-o.

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