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



Perfect in Sight but None to See...

A distant rain wafts with the afternoon trades turning Sarah's image into visions of color and form, spark and sound.

I'll wait a moment... until I can walk again.

Cars pass on the city streets below and discharge particles of toxicity into the pours of the walls and street, into skin of everyone within earshot.

I won't listen.

I'll remain as I am, on balcony above...
with eyes closed,
with face relaxed,
with hands at ease in my lap,

with thoughts of home, Sarah and me.
with untethered boat adrift from dock,
With Leopold The Insane negotiating front door lock.

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