The death of a moon cowboy

I am a somewhat-youth with ideas and thoughts and too many dreams that sometimes overflow as these little dribblings from my fingertips. I guess you can try to collect and capture them.

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Cherry Lane or varicose veins

Newly constructed sidewalks,
overgrown with weeds
like varicose veins--
meant to outlast me.

Imagine them in a century--
my body already absorbed by dirt
or fired to cinders
forty years past--
with its sunned concrete white
faded to a pale mortar grey,
its edges rounded and torn
into crumbled blocks,
the children's initials and handprints
hardly visible anymore.

All of this is meant to outlast me,
transient visitors,
blips on a lifeline,

But the man half-asleep on the steps
of the Community Congregational,
with his head propped
on a pillow of bricks--
he sees little more than Cherry Lane,
he sleeps in little more than fatigues.

And so I ask him,
are you the product of some god
are you the product of my imagination
are you the product of chaos?

To which he replies,
I myself was wondering the same.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Hey Mattie, you write the best poetry, this is really deep, I've always been absorbed by the passage of time, you probably will be too. Wasn't Jarom a newborn baby just yesterday? wasn't it your first day at BYU the day before that? didn't you get that tatoo the day before that? and so it goes on and on until we're only a memory in the minds of those we leave behind...Whew enough of that!! SMILE, I will be seeing you soon and am so enjoying Amy and the babes, love you M