Laura Feldman


from The Bone Pieces

     
     She feels she has the right to walk. Back out into the know it all
     sun. Outside a sequence of time. Lost in lost ozone. Fossils
     protected. If who wins balanced on a beam. The ones they leave are
     carted away. There was nothing personal in her car
     
     In safe places no ground will remember them. You'll see the blazers
     will lose and we will all lose just as some of us will win. The
     Fingers touch a preamble on the ceiling of the chapel. Mischief in
     small places large imperatives. There was not talk about coming back.
     Or leting her go. We were bound to fuel a catalytic converter.
     Don't flood it. Mastodon feelings of relaxation. Geographical praxis
     shifts towards romance like oil spilling into an ocean. When his
     bones were in place inside his body we were not interested. She was
     left for dead in the trunk of here car
     
     Seems having suffered the conversion we should be buy them.
     It takes death and several centuries below ground of continual dying.
     The bodies completely sculpted away by time's petty grievances. A
     soul's soil nitrates. That they were abused as a child. Plastic
     miniature dinosaurs on the surface of her dashboard the Blessed Virgin
     
     Get but then. Why leave bones in them. The card almost hitting me
     gets to the light and idles. Behind the wheel we are not quite human.
     In time he can be eatan again as an encapsulated amount of surface.
     Crude surface centuries later encapsulates them. Suppessed memories
     of walking at the confluence of rivers. All alone would be her
     extinction. Would burn the hole thru the meaning of her car
     
     Oh to be buried at sunset. He has several tatoos that will not
     perservere will. The tainted blood supply burbling. We will keep on
     pumping. Remember always these causes. The little ancient art deco
     gas station atones for the glass phallus girding in the distance.
     Com on blazers. It's unseasonalbly hot today. The cataclysm of
     centuries of unexpressed grief. What is the cataclysm of time
     removed? Put on your tangerine shoes and let's go for a drive


Copyright © 1996 Laura Feldman

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