The Revolution

Here we are, twisting our way through

the countryside together

and we don’t even know each other’s names.

She’s my neighbor, a Japanese flower

possibly from Seattle,

at least that’s what I might have heard

from the river of broken tongues, my ears

were working at only half capacity.

I was using everything else I had

to breathe in my surroundings.

It was utterly useless and pleasant,

I was a hibernating bud on the winter stock,

and I would soon be feeding the world all the

warmth and brilliance of color

and harmony.

I was plotting the liberation of humanity

as I glanced a little to my right

seeing her transparent reflection

looking into this window of subtle

delayed reactions.

Who are you?

Why must we be silently projecting

and accumulating information for the revolution

in our heads, the revolution meant

for our souls?

Would it kill people to actually

talk to one another?

Hello, stranger.

We are not strangers

anymore. Do you like trivia?

Me neither, fuck trivia.

Let’s talk about something else:

Did you know that we are

changing the world as our

reflections speak to one another through

this travelers looking glass?

Oh, that would be a great way

for the revolution to start

tonight.

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A Breach In The Peace Of Mind

I noticed the fence in front of your house was broken, and I tried to

imagine the collision that must have happened in the few days since I

last walked by your house. Some reckless jerk, probably drunk behind

the wheel, had put so much on the line. Thank God there weren’t any

visible bloodstains on the ground. I don’t know how much more I could

fear intruders, especially the ones who don’t know where they’re

going.

 

And so that’s how it was with us. As I walked by that gaping hole in

the fence I could see that the light in your room was on. And I was

afraid, so afraid, of what damages you had sustained, and I felt a

little bit responsible. We were just so careless when we were happy.

 

That broken fence spoke to me through twisted nails and mangled

splinters, and the light showing from your window projected a scene of

irony through that chaotic mess: There you are, up in your room, still

guarding yourself jealously, and here I am, just beyond your window,

teetering on the brink of a collision.

 

Well, maybe we could take some comfort in knowing that even the most

confusing and difficult feelings can manifest themselves so literally.

I think we could both learn a lot from broken fences.

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You may reach Sam Burks at srburks@gmail.com.