See You in Seattle - Flipbook - Page 21
21
Headlights shine into the window // the lighting, the mood bursts
into flame // the stereo of kindle.
Flames engulf the living room // embers like falling stars
A flute whistles:
What’s going on?
Sputnik drops from the sky.
The severed hands pulls me
from the runout.
Ghosts from the harbor
gather at the window.
The doorways puddle with water.
God turns his back again.
Babel has fallen.
I fall through the undercurrent…
The fragile fold tears with time, I long for the runout, running for
you on the runway, two kids dreaming of running away, latchkey
kids holding the world in a fist, it was never supposed to go like
this.
