29 august

at the stoplight maybe three cars back i felt a poem and thought to write a remembering phase but the oatmeal balanced on my lap and the sun glare interfered and suddenly the light had changed the cars in front disappeared and i had to take my turn

i knew it would slip without catching

now i am stuck without knowing even a glimmer of the piece the tone the word what triggered the sense that this should be recorded captured in a cloud of essence clarifying all that matters

crickets through the window share the dark: the light has changed