Camouflaged by distance
And flanked by a disillusioned past,
He wept by night;
And by day stood tall and deliberate.
All his body could do was to follow
As his soul raged on;
All his mind could do was spin.
Fooling everyone but himself
He plodded on - and on - and on;
Never believing himself,
Always wondering why.
Leaving all his joy behind
In a small grey box.
The fair from a distance is a wonderful sight,
With a childhood glint and a mystical glow
That strokes the night with a firework brush
And a dose of terror from a rickety old ride.
The wind carries memorable smells on it's back;
Popcorn, machine-oil and blue-ribbon cows,
Big piles of sawdust that cover the messes;
All getting ripe in the hot August sun.
Liars and cheats and thieves run the show,
But today I don't seem to mind a good fleecing;
It makes me forget that money's my master,
As it should when time slips away behind joy.
Screaming with fear, all the kids beg for more,
As grown-ups scramble for shade and some beer.
The hot sticky ground creates popular benches
And candy floss dreams start to bud in the night.
Angry new teenagers collect in the darkness,
Snuggling into their rock hard cocoons;
Content to leave childish summers behind,
While inside they mourn the loss of their youth.
In years to come they'll be back to recapture
What they so hastily left behind in that season;
Chasing life backwards like old smokey remnants
Of the firework's shadowy grey spider clouds.
Our town's cycle turns like a huge lighted wheel,
Coming back around to make us remember;
Reminding us not to stray far from our hearts.
The fair from a distance is a wonderful sight.
I let her sleep a lot today;
It was easier than taking her out,
Always running the risk of something,
Something that could kill her.
Not that it wouldn't bring her peace,
But staying alive's the thing to do.
So unattractive to be dead;
So complicated and terrible.
She loved to live, to be awake;
It seemed a shame to waste her day.
But in her sleep I found my peace,
And now my peace will never end.
The fog made buildings disappear
But couldn't hide your face.
The rain washed the city clean
But couldn't erase your memory.
The wind blew through the trees
And through the place that was my heart.
The sun warmed everything on earth,
Summer seemed shorter again this year;
Why can't they just leave the poor clocks alone
And let the last long days take their natural course.
To die with dignity without manual assistance.
Pretty soon the sail-boats will all be wrapped up
And the sand won't burn my little girl's feet.
Big towels will give way to bundled up poets
Trolling the beaches for old washed up rhymes.
When ocean-towns loose the bright light of summer
Their offerings soon become subtle and rare.
Diamonds return to coal, fueling the winter;
Leaving the long shadows in charge for a while.
Someone had a fire in their fireplace last night;
How could it already smell like Christmas?
Then I remembered that I was in California
Where Autumn amounted to one windy day.
A column of Harleys flowed down 101 south;
Like a river of angry rats running from the cold.
They didn't seem so tough from a mile away;
As I watched from the relative safety of my hilltop.
Faces turn inward with lingering sun-tans;
Wondering where their next dollar will come from.
Just in time another summer's gone;
Thirsty for rain and five o'clock nights.
I'll soon find another season of memories to share
As reminders drop like red and gold leaves;
Pressing my thoughts between pages like flowers,
They'll always come back to bloom in due time.