because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

buoyancy

pipeline sunset

tequila-truths
float to the top
like ice in the glass,
their density more than that
of water, river- or canal- –
would ice float in a tumbler of tears?
i wonder, but the sun
is already slowing,
its journey through
glassless windows
illumining the last
of the graffitied detail, lights on
the guntower (or so you call it;

though surely it was once
an industrial smokestack,
surely…) reflecting
in the slight dark waves.
enough crying, you say,
and we sip on, our
tongues searching
for the edge
of happiness,
the point at which this
boathouse tips. the sun
now well and truly
fallen & the place

full up with suits, we
take our leave; i run
my fingers over the dark
murals of you, feel
the lingering
warmth of cement. we
used to know this place,
the angle of its suns.
now in the dark, in
the wind, i find again
the poems we may
write tomorrow,
and then, and then.

9 responses

  1. vmarkcovington@comcast.net

    Ah, tequila truths.. like “in vino, veritas”.

    April 10, 2013 at 3:22 pm

    • exactly. though tequila is more effective than wine, i find. 😉 (which is why i usually drink whiskey)

      April 11, 2013 at 8:53 am

  2. You made me think of a decaying city and dreams not willing to given into what others have accepted…really found the poem thought provoking.

    April 10, 2013 at 5:09 pm

    • not willing to give into what some have accepted, yes. exactly. thanks for reading.

      April 11, 2013 at 8:55 am

  3. our
    tongues searching
    for the edge
    of happiness,…and running my fingers over the mural of you…very cool lines joanna…excellent repetition in the end as well….it echoes the feelings in the words…

    April 10, 2013 at 5:59 pm

    • thanks, b. maybe i’ll read it tomorrow night. smiles.

      April 11, 2013 at 8:56 am

  4. I love how you have created mood in this piece. Wow. Great writing.

    April 10, 2013 at 6:05 pm

    • *curtsies* thanks, girl!

      April 11, 2013 at 8:57 am

  5. Anonymous

    Only the memories endure.

    A thoughtful, evocative piece.

    Cheers!

    April 12, 2013 at 1:21 pm

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