Clearlake Oaks, California

Innumerable prints of bare feet commingling and rapidly vanishing away from me over the burgundy water darkening minute by minute, from land to lake they pass without paying attention or anything else. The words celestial escalator come to mind. To mine. What about yours? They do now. What is the past? Only a moment ago. I was spoken, before long I’ll be decaying, like a note, or the sun. I’m half-disappearing already, first fading from your tongue, then seen on a street corner waiting for a light, among the category of memories and ghosts, fading from view again. And I want to be one of you, flying unseen over failing and darkening memory’s sapphire-black waters, fate’s coolant, the tears rolling up your cheeks and back into my eyes.