open season

byannaswirls©

It's these days that follow nights
packed in tight, time condensed
like honey.
It is these days
chemicals battle for dominance
in blood. The dirty fighters win.
and hours until night time stretch
like a mile of hot tar.

These days follow nights
laughing lovers dance around me,
tossing me pennies that have lost their shine.
Alone with patina green
and oxidation brown,
unable to convince myself what I know is true,
lovers will be lovers,
just pick up the change
turn it into tide pool wishes.

I keep cheating
squeezing another verse in between
like paint by numbers
and numbers and numbers,
each step cut in half
I never arrive.

These days I learn I am not
finished with you,
colors have blended to brown
and monochrome my brush.

I need turpentine
gasoline,
some petroleum based
something or other
to dissolve these stains
and start again.

Baby I miss you on my pallet,
we are dried muddled cracked
when rains come
we blur

and I would roll down a long tar mile
to hear you love you know you one more time.

I believed these days were over
but like the crickets
and crocodiles,
the repeating sounds draw me into you
and again,

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