California Dreamin'

Aftermath

The records runs out and skips into forever.
Echoes leave us be.
This is where the landslide grinds down to one pebble clatter.
Our eyes roll into our heads.
The love call of the loon drifts from a lake unseen.
Dreams seem only dreams.
The train howl dies away giving us a large and wilder quiet.
The puddle resets to taut and flat.
His body makes a last grasp, a cinematic spasm
and he even leaves a last something mid sentence,
maybe even, "Tell So-and-So I dot dot dot."
Could haves haunt us and parralel realities
split off like fire sparks every step of the way.
Even our sighs of deeper feeling get gobbled by the trees.

A parable:
There was the day she landed and plowed into dandelions,
scattering their bits and one bitty sparrow into the air,
where its wings stopped at the bark of a barrel.
She reached out to clutch his far-off toyness,
and she and hunter and the dandelion childs
watched the sun punch through the breast
right back through the bullet tear.
And as much as she wanted that buttonhole of light
to make for it a new heart, it does
what Newton told us would happen.

The wave rolls back.
Last night's coals hide like ready eggs for one breath.
Your hand lies unpaired next to hers all hour.
The sun dial cools into just stone.
The cicadas cease their buzz
and rest again.