The season of summer
Drips the sweat of her hands
Across the windshield.
It is nearing 8pm
And we have just left the mall,
That wonderland maze of retail
Buzzing like a bubble gum machine
With all the young people lurking
Between their cell phone calls and curfews.
My belly is full of the days’ long deed,
And tired, our limbs hang like
Limp clothes in a closed closet.
The tops of pine and elk trees
Pull the last rays of sun
Across their branched heads like bonnets
As the world whizzes by like the tail of a bee,
All gleaming though, these wheeled metal machines
That drive tired men home from work,
The housewives to convenient stores for salt and wine,
And teenage girls, flowered in their virginity
Across miles of impatient daydreams,
Into the reality of dawn’s unshaven upper lip
And the cold turn of a shoulder blade
Once the deed is done.
Right now I am happy in this numb place,
my womanhood not yet born
And I have never met my daughter.
I am content with the universe
Of air-conditioned velvet seats thick
Against the quiet ache of my footsoles,
This spinning world as the window-view
Drifts our eyes out of the daylight
And into the open mouth of nightfall.
Outside the window, one by one,
In the suburbia yellow brick road below the valley
I watch the houses fall into sleep,
The lights of their windowed eyes
Slowly growing dim
As a blown out candle in a dark room.
As if hesitant of that vacant center stage,
The night is shy to dance to life
As each star bangs its white birth
Against the black iron of the sky
And the pale city lights begin to bloom
Against their perched metal roofs.
The city becomes an invisible string of lights,
The eclipse of moon across
a glinting mirage of streetlights and concrete.
The crickets begin their quartet,
an orchestrated symphony of firefly buzz
And the lone mating croak of frogs.
I am one with the yellow-lined smile of the highway
And the disjointed stream of car headlights
That beckon us home like hanging lanterns.
Written for a prompt at mindlovemisery.