_83647612_tornado

Some days—

 

are fucking twisters.

 

Furious funnels

collecting tomorrows,

taking them for granted.

 

Hitting us in the face

with yesterdays,

memories that love and

hate us.

 

We keep ‘em either way.

 

Scream holy hell with regret

and smile gladly, it happened.

 

Today—

 

all these pieces

waiting to fall into place…

 

Here I am, a spiral

trying to find you,

 

to land with you,

 

or fall apart perfectly,

the same.

 

My friend,

over there in the traffic,

the pain, the pondering.

 

Emptiness here is

the same.

 

Reflecting back…

 

Maybe

it was a conversation.

 

A Chevy, racing.

Anywhere embracing madness

we thought may kill or save us.

 

A confident moon in July.

 

A street walked

a thousand times.

 

The stale warm Michelob

we shared.

A Marlboro taken from

behind your ear for a light.

 

The days we were fearless

and brilliant.

 

I can never grow old

with you, forever young,

in my heart.

 

God, I love you.

 

In the sound of music,

no matter what road,

the lyrics: We are so free.

 

Free—Jesus Christ!

We could go anywhere.

 

That’s exactly where

you’ll find me,

 

waiting,

laughter to receive you

home.

 

Rest assured:

All of our collected treasures,

broken dreams, right, wrong,

 

b e l o n g.

 

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2016 All Rights Reserved

(This poem was inspired by my friend, Joe, and for all of my closest friends through the turbulent teenage years that remain forever in my heart, wherever life takes us…I know, we know, those of us that will always shine a light for the other.) 

 

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