Like A Runaway Train

Charissa's Grace Notes

Sometimes I think about the future.
I think about the time coming, roaring
down on us like a runaway train
in the silent frozen landscape
of history not yet born.
In that time, perhaps these halls
these empty rooms occupied by
the outpourings of my wakeful soul
and bright quick mind and visions of eyes
that see beyond around the bend
Image 009
Will be wandered by real people with hands
hungry to touch, and know, and join
with my desperate lonely shouts and dances,
my perhaps pas de deux with Vincent
and his swirly starry nights hidden for years
Image 001
Because right now?  The halls are empty,
the rooms cold and dusty, and the cover-sheets
of familiarity and current contempt so casual
drape masterpieces and treasures and living
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I refuse to give in to the abandonment
thrown at me in glances that brush, stare
and walk by an embarrassment of riches

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