broken

Fascinating how rain can trickle
its own path, choosing flecks
for detours down a window

I would like it to end here
but it goes over there
despite gravity’s—

Pores on a face can detour
fluids as capably as flecks
I expect.

You are over there staring into
some abyss of your own:
I hope it is a nicer place than this
carpeted mausoleum
that flies no skies but a rainbow
in your empty eyes.

A while ago, I drew an emoticon on the window,
traced it with my finger: colon close bracket.
It’s not how I feel, but how I meant to feel:
with my finger, on cool, moist glass.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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