Passing Lightly Over the Tombstones


Fairy dust and folklore a melange of careless thoughts
Side step each other the labyrinth like the internal ear
"I don't hear too well is all," he says wheezing into the wind
Lamenting scalding remembrances' walking dark desert village streets
Jimmy-rigged structures stand on last legs
House prices have halved so everyone moved to escape the smog and dead birds
A new medical center bathed in bleached concrete
The good doctors got transferred out of town
Poughkipsy Canyon lane, the man with the beard leans into the breeze and pulls on his coat
"I have one friend in the mad house and one in jail," he says passing lightly over the tombstones
Yawning, I turn my hand to whatever can be done: forklift driver, janitor, tea cozy, oil and lube guy
Spare a thought for the little ones, he jibes
Fog crested grit, follows the freeway to the hills
The Santa Ana winds blow easterly clean and free
The laundry matt stands fatigued like us ashen and tired
House prices fell even more when they all moved back to the city
Reminiscing with sunken eyes he passes lightly over the tombstones
Desert cacti proudly perch amidst sun baked Joshua trees
Stilted rock formations in the land that time forgot
Starling-passerines fight in the shadows
The city dwellers have long since taken off, the freeway now a trickle
"Remember the little ones," he frowns
"Do something you are good at"
A nighttime of mist wavers through the fields
His long neck is tracked and pitted with blood vessels
Spare a thought for the elders too, as he passes lightly over the tombstones

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