... Doug Richardson
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To the Future Killer Who Might Not Be What you need has already happened And resides in your memory: Curbside Circle K Summer moonlight The space swept clear Of the discarded cigarettes Of an era There you sat Hands on the concrete behind Elbows locked in place Recalling the dream in which You watered the plants And woke to the sound Of rain. Surrender The bad news kept coming. He closed shop, receded, Stared at floating dust particles On Sunday afternoons, Became aware of the give and take Of celestial bodies, Of the thermodynamics of phantoms. There was a strangeness to him now. His friends noted the change. Synchronicity III From thirty minutes after sunset until sunrise, The front and rear attendants Carry red lighted lanterns To warn all persons approaching the flock So that proper precaution may be taken; At thirty minutes after sunrise, The front and rear attendants Dissolve like sugar into the ghost. Many miles away, at Golden Rule Liquor, A hooded woman asks the day clerk For a book of matches And is given a lighter, A timepiece, And a book of promises. Main Page
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