light to the touch- a prism to raze.
scattered the spectrums,
sedimentary splinters casted a play.
piece de resistance-
was left in a pedestrian rain. steam meeting fog
briefly to talk- but walk on their way, visitor's pass,
seeing's to sight as cite is to page- postcards, and stamps,
glowering glance- tuned to the hits, nobody danced.
cirrus, cumulus, strata- summa cum lauda
groping for hands. crawling for shade in the sand,
we're a human sonata
rewording a dirge for terra firma forgotten,
banners, anthems for fathers-
interpretive candles
waxing in moonbeams. the barrio's stupor, substantial-
when it's pupils had spread, students like strep,
walking the piers like operational phantoms.
you could hear children seeking the hidden.
nostalgia is fickle. deviant. distant.
sculptures trekked in by footsteps.
it clings to your heels. swallows them whole.
body and soul. catechized glimpses,
panorama collapses with gradual wisdom.
age is a number. a reference plane.
stencilling stains in the asphalt with chalk,
or a rattling maw through which acryllics are drawn,
filling the cracks with a glaze
for tired eyes to run over,
and chuckle, in praise.
the neighborhood's gone, motifs awash in
Nickelodeon splotched with poetry gobs,
even sun out of storm it's lonely to walk.