Kennings
Last night I was walking home, it was late
streetlights yellow islands
one headphone out, listening for a siren's song
raiders on that wine-dark sea, the growl of a motorcycle
woke me up, thinking
on my left the hard reality of a car
on my right the growl of a motorcycle
slowing
flickering islands far from view, but I am fast
my feet can follow the whale roads
faster than they know, but
no
it is only the local grocer
wanting to know why I haven't visited
I was sick, I say, he nods, sympathetic
leaves me to my thoughts
tripping between lights and wondering if next time
I'll stay so luck
Notes: my 11th grade English teacher always said a poem was "a dramatic utterance at a moment in time" so this one's for you Chris.
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