Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Kiddie Rides, the poem: another version

Last night, the streets were eternally
Bathed in disconsolate orange moonlight and
Seemed trapped in an endless maze of mirrors.

In the morning, I longed with desperation
To return to that luminous chartreuse home
Where ghosts of ancestors,
Sitting on the moss of invisible oaks,
Offer kind words of encouragement
Adding seconds to midnight
When dreams turn to film noir.

At dusk, I scraped and scraped the bottom
Of my dish, searching for one last drop.
Memories behind stained glass windows
Beckoned like a naked amnesiac
Who struggles to reach home.

On the highway, the pink sun sizzled and set,
To my right, in bright blazing Technicolor.
And in the distance, one kittiwake
Seemed to have found the way.
I reached colorless sands and a creaky Ferris wheel
Reminded me of the sweet elixir of spinning
Teacups: intoxicating kiddie rides
In the most haunted and haunting of places. ©

by Marjorie Levine, registered WGAE December 10, 2004
as part of material titled "Naked Amnesiac"

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