A crash inspired

Christina Strigas

Varicose veins are extending

they have a life of their own –

the moon Diana is blending

with our concept of time we have always known

while fragments of our lives are deceiving

the distinct plots we are weaving.

Act one is coming to an end

and the letter I never wrote nor will ever send

is altering every instant we are apart.

Oh, how sweet it would be to return to the start

the line that fades with acid rain

the lines on my forehead receding in pain.

You talk the talk but never show me

the action you decree

let me not look into your hypnotic eyes

one more time. I’ll try to rise

up out of this trance you mix

hold out your hand to mine to fix

the cracks on the sidewalk

the mangled thoughts I so want to talk

for only your ears to listen

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