i watched the twilight pull the first night star out of the shadow of the sky and remembered what it is to just be ; to just be a set of eyes ; now we trace down through the line of trees, past richmond, virginia; a parking lot of yellow school buses; tractors stuck in space ; mobile homes flying down the highway; a marsh, a puddle of clouds upside down ; the trees change as we scrape southwards, and the grass preens itself, glowing itself green ; now pine, now palm, now dipping through the names of these states like several constellations in a ladle
this city, a small lace skeleton of rusty bones and swinging sighs from spanish moss and ornate steel; pastel shades and ghosts; the squares dancing with each new nameplate, each strident figurine placed inside of stone ; the river laps up onto the sides of the cobblestones and the patterned bridges; laying themselves across fire brim walls — lanterns flicker (electronic now, but still the glow dances), wilting branches seem to hold highways of effortless weight on them // a porch, a finger-ful of ivy sliding up brick, the curvature of a doorknob ; city of elegance, wide streets, praline smiles, clip clop horsing feet, pecan hands, racing steamboat song tugging away at the seams of by-gone days , down the twisting stairwell, across the boulevard covered in willows, past the peeks of first blossoms, under evening bulbs, watching the moon pull a cargo boat across the specks it leaves in the twisting water ;; warm air, the smell of things growing, down where wind sits lazily in the long hanging branches, and the light tucks itself inside the space between each leaf
lauren suchenski 