THE HIDDEN TRACK

The following passages are dedicated to Leopold, to the vernacular, to certain evil women (you know who you are), to certain wonderful people(they know who they are), to soft afternoons and quiet Sunday evenings, to Fall and seeing your breath for the first time since Spring, and to Isabelle Ya Feng ... a soul slipped by like two ships passing in the still, moonlit sea.
-- Abraham Ahmed, the Surfing Beatnik



Finding This All Awkwardly Normal...

I was born in northern June
on the 13th of Michigan.
Where days were dark
and nights were full of brilliance.

On a moonlit afternoon
I lost my mind while asleep
and woke when I dreamt.
I composed this in a truck heading south.

It all never quite meshed[colon]
This and the questions I asked the air
during the moments I spent alone.

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