Texture
03.23.06
Ivory-white, preferably wheat tinted
Midnight ink black takes
The virgin
Rice paper
In rapturous swirls and devastating strokes
Yet taints it not
Instead, the quill gives magnificence
And grace
To the remains of that hearty plant,
And that delicate flower between the folds.
Of My Own Time
?
He had said to get there an hour early,
and I did,
bracing myself for an hour of waiting
for a Greyhound.
If only that station was real again.
Oh, the walls don’t have to look new,
But if only the lights would work again.
“BUS”
on the vertical sign
that the Michigan and State Theaters
should never
have plagiarized.
It belonged back then,
people can’t appreciate it now.
This station is a genuine mark of the past
In fact, no one but I has been in it since the ‘50s.
I’m sure of it.
And someday I’ll fight to keep it a landmark,
Not only for sake of the past it had known,
But also for the past that is my own.