in the sandpit
I let the nun love me again
tendril faced, lip seeking, heart a nest
she kneels before fallen castles
a history of bedding in puddle moats
mythic sadness sinking
into ruined lands, races and fireplaces gone
every grain, a single event, bated breath
lines whispered between maidens and knights
fierce emotions downplayed into fatigues
reminiscing in quietude
a long dark
black blue dress
It is time to receive communion
the church, next to sandbox, has no walls or roof
built before i was born, open to the elements, storms and suns
only a few parishioners queued
I walk behind the main altar to join the line
but when I get there, mass is over
The priest is packing up the remains of Christ
“I was in the toilet, and missed eating the body,” I lie
“say six glory be’s.” he tells me, then reprimands me with gibberish.
night falls and I’m in the master bedroom of the old house
mother sleeps, watching me circle the bed to window
half smoked Indonesian cigarettes lines up on the sill
i refrain from smoking, out of respect, but
Unexpectedly, she joins me
a fresh cigarette from a fresh pack between her frail fingers
I ask, “are you doing the, ‘we all gotta die some day’ thing?”
she agrees. We fill the room with precious smoke.
on the upper deck of a double decker bus,
the nun sits before me, turned sideways
we are right up front, roads lost beneath our feet.
“I’m going to get off here” I say to the group we were with, hoping she’ll join me.
No one says a thing. “What are you all going to do now?” again, no answers.
I alight, not sure if she’ll join me.
I cut through an aging population at a coffeehouse
I cut through the old dark grey mall that links to the light bridge to the bright orange mall.
concrete and memories and long nights on all sides
traffic, trees, turbulence, catasrophies
I’m surrounded by noise and population,
but my heart is a lonesome animal, eternally wandering