Wednesday, March 14, 2012

"two writers on a porch"

"two writers on a porch"
written in memory by jake kilroy.

by porch light,
two writers took a break
from their evening work.
one wrote to his family,
one wrote to america.
one drank, one smoked,
they both sipped tea.
one said, "i'm scared for when my mind goes."
the other said, "i'm scared for when my body does."
neither feared death.
death was poetry.
death was night.
death was fine.
"how young we are to be so old," one harped.
"yeah, been a couple of years," the other agreed.
remember tennessee?
remember our old place?
remember the women?
nodding, the other cracked his knuckles.
"we're doing good, right?"
nodding, the other poet coughed.
"i sure hope so."
"what if we aren't?"
"what else is there?"
"yeah, i'd say we're doing alright."
then came a breeze
and a bird escaping a tree
to claim the deep breath of darkness.
"i feel like we're far from home."
"maybe we are."
nodding, the other clicked his tongue.
nodding, the other leaned in his chair.
"what else we got?"
nodding, the other shrugged.
nodding, the other agreed.
both of them slept well before midnight
and neither dreamed of winding roads,
train cars, boat waves or plane tickets.
they thought of home and grinned in their sleep.

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