long after winding down
the party keeps winding down
it smiles in the gridlocked smoke
long after , tell the journey
anout no one going home with someone
along the underground storylines,
and i remember the part where you said you can't even remember the good parts
here's my self portrait as conveyor belt, i've no further
questions
.........
this is what comes
what i have, what i've been
sitting here waiting to write
like a passing storm
leaving remnants of misconstrue
what remains... is that:
although i appear, as an oddity
to relatives, and some friends,
and incomplete
to whoever remains- to my mother
and in her arms, i am the dark haired infant
in the photo
uniformed in pink
sweet ruffles smiling past
the camera's theivery; again
a girl-looking to anyone
like a girl; a girl
holding everything she needs
in her mother's arms
this is what comes
this the storm just passed
and leaving me drenched
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