Heading down a two lane road
Hemmed in by a painted yellow line.
On the way to where I’m going,
If I ever get there at all.

Headlights stare at me
From the other side,
Going where I’ve already been.
What will they find there
That I never did?

And a bend in the concrete
Makes us both alone again,
Winding our ways home
To a place we’ve never been
Or nowhere we’ll ever find.

It’s the last leg of a road trip
I didn’t even know I was taking.
It just started, like an idea
Rolling around in the back of my head.

Where signposts offer sympathy
I take no notice of,
Not even the rusted warnings
Of what lies in wait

Around a bend in the concrete
Where I’m alone,
Winding my way home
To somewhere I’ve only thought about
Or to the place I’ve been searching for all along.

© 2017 Wasted Space Publishing

You know, Momma, don’t you?
You know I love you deep down to the bones of my heart.

You know
The summer mornings with the back door open,
The bedtime nights folded in words,
And rainy days when I ran away,
Don’t you?

You know
The sharp looks in the rearview,
The last stand defenses,
Lasting long after I left,
Don’t you?

You know, Momma, don’t you?
You know I love you with the heart you made in me.

© 2015 Wasted Space Publishing

Explosions of light dying in falling embers.
Swirls of manufactured ashes flickering.
Faces uplifted to the prescience in the sky.

In a mass for the dead delivered by the dying.
In an eulogy for the lost prepared by the perishing.
A macabre dance in sifting cinders.

Binding future facts to everlasting evidence.

© 2015 Wasted Space Publishing