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..................................................................................................................................................
The Poetry Of
Michael Rivet..............................................


Spring Sale

After the rains,
River quickly gave its argument
Of rustic mountain wisdom
And urbane refinement.


On days when unrelenting Sun
Widens the shoals and steals
Shadows from seagulls,
You can bank on its broad shores


Revealed through bare winter branches.
Only now has the spring sale
On leaves and branches commenced
Blue sashes thrown in carelessly -


Over the bridge, cars scatter returning birds,
I have no retort in this fair debate.





Impressions

Growing up, white covered album jackets
opened up like the wings of black birds,
music carved out of fantasy
of romantic places and peaceful dreams --
advertising campaigns to end war,
and learn to love just a little.


Warm summer memories collect
like milkweed pollen at the side of the road
momentarily snowing-in June travelers
until a sudden wind carries away
the lost thoughts of youth --
an air conditioner cooling the air.


Imagine yourself twenty pounds lighter,
in tight blue jeans and sunglasses
grooving to music like it was everything --
can you remember the countdown to your first kiss?
I still feel the furtive impression on my lips
and the roar of blood rushing in my head.





Mercury's Wings

We ride together on a Friday night
No questions to ask 'bout our days
No need to wonder who we might be
'Scept the time spent running
.............. neon lights a carnival of delight
.............. back alley mystery tunnels
.............. dance floors our rituals
.............. drinks to fog or escape
.............. friends whose faces
I could never name in the daylight.


Together, meaning was a distant thing
Rolling we blurred the edges of ourselves
Deep in feeling the end of the line
Beginning anew with what we found
Old scars, aches, and pains
Those fears we tried to leave behind.


In the dark, our faces lost and indistinct
Me a fighter, you a toy hard played,
Money nothing more than what it could buy -
Ask no questions, truth is an orphan here,
I'll put on my suit and pick you up at eight
And we'll ride high on Mercury's wings.




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