Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

The Park in Winter

by Taylor Bond

We drive through Hubbard Park
  and I wonder if he wishes they were the lights of the city
stars constructed of concrete dreams I can’t coax from
  his eyes, are they only reflection of windows somewhere else?
He smiles
  and I cannot help but peer beyond
  to the places he has smiled that I have never seen
  the people who have witnessed his lips curl in masked joy
  (it is rare and delicate, tender tufts of winter, don’t let it melt)
 I’m a suburban shell filled with fear
and he is brimming with the blare of taxis and 2am subways
Our car, his car, a red relic in a black and white silence
can’t hold us both, we burst at the seams with two separate places
and it is filled with the promise of the future and the touch of our smiles
  In his mouth I taste happiness
  I only wonder what he tastes in mine.

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