Slip down years where decades hang
like velvet, soft muffling voices setting scenes
and stars speaking unforgettable lines.
This is the magic of the world
that it blends memories of death
with beauty while we sleep
breaking thought into fragments of light
spaces in the cracks imagining the whys
and wherefores of that smashed pose
seeing strange life in art on walls
peering into paint, canvassing opinions
speculating, diving in, seeking
to divine the truth behind styles, strokes
different paths, mapping myriad trails.
Broken thoughts open eyes.
Sometimes I see the flick of a skirt
feel hair trailing in the wind, all versions of me
and the steps I took to reach this heaven.