Sitting at my keyboard. Don McLean sings
“And I Love You So”. Through closed blinds I sense
slit of light, and I know it’s returning.
I open shade again. Clouds hide intense
glow, then weaken, allowing hazy gleam.
I think of Noyes’ “The Highwayman”, ghostly
galleon tossed on seas. I recall old dreams
of a lover’s moonlike eye, sad mostly.
I await E.T.’s crossing silhouette,
hear Nicolas Cage growl to Cher, “I don’t
care if I burn in hell…” I can’t forget
her last tortured gaze, the cab’s last second
there then gone. The smudgy moon now blurred chalk.
What’s left perhaps…go outside…pray and walk…
Roger Armbrust
August 18, 2016
