By: Liane Engstrom
I wonder how he’s doing
I saw the beauty and the
strangeness of the
west coast
A screen the size of a mountainside. Bigger
then my memories. bigger
then whats left.
Big hazel eyes.
We are inevitable
inevitably
fucked.
The trail-blazer of the dark
bright regions
of my heart
Sweetened coffee
under a hazelnut tree
The missing
things
memory reprieves you
from
The ticket stubs
the sounds
of a crowded venue
as a song comes to a
haunting close.
Weathered rocks
in denim pockets. Torn fragments
of our favorite
book.
Glued memories over glue
-d memories
over-glued
memories
under the orange grove
sun lit
earth.
Shining out
from tight inside
us.
Between the sandstone
gaps.
I wonder how he’s doing.
