Slouch of a summer night
The road out of town harbors secrets
Bobby socks and sneakers can take a girl only so far.
Suitcase that holds more than can be carried
For there is much to be left behind
The white steeple that gathers the town
Folds back into the pages of a book
The townsfolk share among themselves.
Her gaze tumbles down toward the reservoir
Where the wayward slumber at the water's edge
Dredging their dreams
Waking to find they have fashioned a dwelling
Only sleep can keep intact.
The trees conspire the fate of those who linger
Beyond the bounds the birdsong changes pitch
You can feel it as if made of feather and bone
Pushing at the canopy but never quite breaking free
Hers is a mystic road that stretches beyond.
From deep in the nested forest of desire
Colors migrate to hinterlands of touch
In motel rooms the windows rattle
And the freeway thunders
Seductive scent of a storm about to break.
'Rock Lobster' in a diner where the fifties never ended
It is the coming and going that charges the air
The way conversations ebb and flow with the traffic
The chance encounter that sparks a new thread
A story woven from the fabric of day turning to night.
Sunday school neophyte waiting her turn
Hands that might clasp a token of the divine
Hold a ticket to the sacred sidewalks of the strange
An emissary who shall cometh
A posture to be unlearned.
Starlet in the blue and sky of the Stars
A road that curves the Hollywood hills
West coast sunlight that sharpens the shadows
"She had it coming" the concierge mutters
As the sirens fade into the drivetime sprawl.
Traveling light into the garden of plenty
There's a face for every season
For every stop along the desert road
A suitcase of bougainvillea
Paper trail for others to follow.
She senses a shadow who already stalks her
Flash of light on her ghost-white frame
The soft cadence of breath in warm summer air
It is the songlines of lovers
A map of all that she'll ever become.
© Les Roberts 2016. All Rights Reserved.