justwrite 20 august

forgotten the words but the twilight fascination the station that changes itself in embarrassed reflection i have always had an ax to grind behind my back stair case the face i am replacing in my memory is wandering now wondering how far off the path the tracks lead the mind speeds on and the sing-along leader haswal-mart greeter has been studying the absurd and the fanatical tactics he employs are enough to annoy the joy right off of those smirking faces but to erase this image we pretend this thing is something worth following up on we call for back-up we suit the track up and spin it right round four times per mile in vintage style a topic tossed with polyester and blessed with the rest stirred into fries marbled into rye to rise again like deceitful yeast which is truer in reverse and when we gaze into the hearse the church leans in behind the steeple peeping and the coffee creeping back to black as the cream settles out there is no doubt this time is precious but for too many reasons we imagine the seasons spinning into counterclockwork the opposite depositing its weight in full-figured fools' gold holding up one end of the bargain train so no one trips and tips over the conductor