Poem-Cloud Decked Dream Bar
We went to a motorcycle bar,
At the edge of the mountain,
Not far from the sea, cloud decked,
Spoke civilized of fog and light,
Sunny Alhambra,far-reaching roads,
Coffee and cigarettes,
Wood still smelling of the forest,
Fresh cut but decades ago, a century ago,
In that undying way, like dream mists that never age,
That pull wanderers in from the civilized world,
Only to discover the place exists solely
In crumbling postcards, long forgotten photos,
Eternal like that, at the bends of memory,
The happiest of days
Eating a hamburger,
Conversation like twinkling glass,
Spoon against cup stirring,
Steam exhaling fresh off the press,
And the bar keep juggling with
The oranges and mint.
Distant ships are out at sea.
As the thickened air clears,
With a hug, we depart for
The mysteries of the Stars
And missives of the pen and page.
(From The Family Photo Series)
