Sunday, October 7, 2018

I'm Reading

I’m reading the biography of raindrops illuminated past 3 AM by the monk
streetlight through my friend’s living room window. How the lantern inside the drops
translates now - sleeping on someone else’s couch at fifty - into an ancient wonder. 
How it words this first night of homelessness into Christmas when I was six. 
Memories are a liquid wall of shimmer on the verge of streets.
It looks like Christmas Eve.
In the light inside of rain, in the glow part of the sound of it.
For a second I am who I used to be. 
Light can make a sweet dream of homelessness
for a second. Sugarplums. 
And I’m loved again.
And feel what it must be like.
I don’t remember it.

.

3 comments:

  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  2. a biography
    of raindrops
    written
    by a monk
    looks like
    Christmas Eve
    I don't remember

    ReplyDelete
  3. Beautiful, Rob Schackne, but id still say a streetlight monk 😉

    ReplyDelete

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