Flat City/ Smoke City
//Holiday-structure chaos made out like another person’s history.
You keep thinking of something that has almost completely disappeared from you:
Hot-blooded youth, short-sleeved and running, returning to sun.
Finding greenery in the faux-Spring and
Not feeling the small cold wrap around you like a wild deer.
But you have your double-layer happiness, with
Nostalgic sound that should be in a Polaroid picture,
Like sleep with the thoughts in the bed.
All those little ways.
All those dangling limbs.
All those coats of wool and fur.
All those feet walking away with bags attached.
All that cigarette smoke disappearing into the ether.
Solid qualities forgotten like a sunken ship.
A hiatus.
.
.
.
Forced to
a distance with allotted time.
At a loss of how to treat that distance and what to throw at the time.
Riding down the stairs on a well-soldered frame, holding it all together despite the weight of quick successive falls. //
You keep thinking of something that has almost completely disappeared from you:
Hot-blooded youth, short-sleeved and running, returning to sun.
Finding greenery in the faux-Spring and
Not feeling the small cold wrap around you like a wild deer.
But you have your double-layer happiness, with
Nostalgic sound that should be in a Polaroid picture,
Like sleep with the thoughts in the bed.
All those little ways.
All those dangling limbs.
All those coats of wool and fur.
All those feet walking away with bags attached.
All that cigarette smoke disappearing into the ether.
Solid qualities forgotten like a sunken ship.
A hiatus.
.
.
.
Forced to
a distance with allotted time.
At a loss of how to treat that distance and what to throw at the time.
Riding down the stairs on a well-soldered frame, holding it all together despite the weight of quick successive falls. //