Saturday, November 16, 2013

‘Stang Heaven

My eyes follow as
your white blur streaks by
I hear you singing Molly Hatchett
and flirt with disaster again.

A silver sliver of a dream
and you hold it tight
a bright place
to call your own.

In Van Morrison’s head you’d live
in gardens wet with rain
on cobblestone streets
a blue-eyed brown-eyed girl.

But for now you have
’stang heaven
your twenty-minute refuge
a fence to give shelter in the storm.
Post a Comment