That Day
for that special day
when I can finally walk
hoping to understand the
sideways, backwards, and upside down
glances
received by those beautiful
swirling brown eyes
that speak of insincerity
or truth
the walk is long
down the narrowing tunnel
of dark laughing faces
(and the other one)
all suppressed by the desire
to know that mind
smell the flowing red hair
tied back in a pony tail today
talk
all I can say is come
she thinks and thinks
inquiring as to where or when or why
hope rising
like confined mercury
it just got cold
and she remembers that horrible plan
so she drives two provinces away
leaving me to toss
in the wretched devices
of my own mind.
© 1999 Miguel Condell
