The Less-Imaginable

Tue, 05/27/2014 - 21:21 -- Janel S

Location

The Less-Imaginable

 

Which came first, the mind or reality?

They live in each other.

But one should not be measured

by location.

This is often pre-determined,

as all things original are.

The environment is only a factor

after the facts or:

one must be born to be mutated.

But with everything's purpose this is hard to see.

Nothing would be what it weren't if not

for it being something.

Try again, and you will misunderstand.

Because inherently understanding means

standing, and what do you know if you

stay still?
 


But beauty isn't here...
 


It exists there. In the moments rubbed

curved at the edges from too much

nostalgia.

In the words held close and etched

in magic-marker on the sidewalk,

needled into one's inked-in-skin, hopscotch spilled

on pavement meant to jump through,

do not stop to look back because

the notes on the back of your hands

are worthless. You already

know them.


Company that expects you, unquestioningly.

A friendly ear that remains piercingly close,

always ready for more, never prepared for

your departure though they've heard it

many times before. A welcome at the gate,

before you’re realized that you’re back again,

before the familiar scents have reached their contentment

on your eyelash and the night lingers as if

you never left it. As though it was waiting for you,

and it was.

 

These conflict sometimes with the less-

imaginable. A slap on the face. An empty

chair and message box. The face that forgets.

The face that doesn’t. Not because it can’t.

Goals never keep

longer than the dust piling,

the sheets, swept. Promises unfulfilled and

never heard from again. An airplane floating

away from your thoughts, then crashing somewhere,

never thought of again.

 

The feet walk on, through the sea, to find

their answerable shoes, or fins.

Nothing.

And yet there is a sea to walk past,

swim through,

or to float above.

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