surfing and dancing in raglan
the fabric of the sky here
is seamless. i would unroll it even more,
shoulder the waves and tell you
i miss you already.
am i seventeen or twenty-seven?
i forget sometimes. forget that i should
explode with sadness. forget
that i shouldn't dance with a strange girl
who looks at me with indian ink eyes.
forget that i should be writing a novel by now.
filled with interludes involving
my housemates on their adventures
in the city and beyond. telling me
i am a crazy boy, too lit up with life
for others to comprehend.
no, i'm twenty-seven. on the cusp
of something either glorious or damning.
likened to endless summer or graunching quicksand.
decided by the next three years of mine.
here, wherever. beyond the sky
there's endless truth in eyes
clouded over, looking away as if
you'd catch this and smile.
it's incense and pearls on a fine day.
it's fingers outstretched, searching for divinity in flesh
and communion in dreaming escapades.
a house of cards, as always, toppling,
i was never much good at bluffing.
too enthralled with nights spotting mars and venus:
perfectly aligned, an orange orb and bright white evening star
as companions. as scarf to neck. as a grandfather clock
in a wizened villa, high stud ceilings crackling with decrepit paint.
there's industry here, voices and endless commotion.
i would give all of this up, run away to hills yet to be named.
turn the soil over and plant my childhood once again.
discover the sugary snap of pea-pods opened by inquisitive fingers.
steal chicken eggs and marvel at the difference corn and scraps makes.
to the colour. the vivacity of a utopia i've always dreamed of.
the thread of skyline, and i with a fish-hook, intent on pulling it in.
into my shadow, into my daily conversation
bread and wine, infused with love.
grace and mirrors to every angle i touch.
magnified. blooming. veins filled with silver and life.
children and laughter, a given. if i were to follow this path.
escape, and forever escape. light, forever light.