There are wisps of recurring conversations,
whispers of parents, college friends, favorite movies,
music coming in & out of focus. Favorite cigarette
moments with different women. Ethereal galleons
floating on vagrant winds unseen.

They come back in the dead of night when nothing
is held back & an ancient calliope can he heard.
If I stand in the empty house at night
I hear the voices of some now gone to where
the stories pile up on some mild shore.

As long as they hold their place & allow
this subterfuge to roll on:
the streets & gardens walked through
to stay solid, substantial artifacts,
scenery of an outer life that is only a ripple

on the great ocean’s surface that we traverse,
then I will continue to paddle observing
the flora, fauna, & mixed messages of our prismatic life.
I ask is it getting warmer for you?

The horizon is coming ever closer to a closure
that will resolve all the questions that breathe
in & out with our every breath.

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