I felt it come back
by Michael Walker
I felt it come back;
a mesh of tree leaves and wet grass
as the speaking form of this evening.
scents of summer, scents of the sub-tropical,
scenes of incandescent lamps seen through dense vegetation,
sounds of rain dripping from super-saturated branches.
some things in life have such strong identities that they
almost overpower us with their own smartness.
they bore us through, their open hearts and flashy faces.
but others, oh, some other concepts, they are so universal
that each time they rise up from the ground as new beings.
when I say "charm me", when I ask for it, I never describe a
perfect format for the wonder I seek.
bring it on in any of many ways and I will feel it all
the same and enjoy the newness of the novelty.
give me obscured figures and full moons,
forests and orange orchards filled with citrus in the night.
give me foreign newspapers and tarnished imported brass urns.
anything, anything, which I can cross-reference with other memories.
anything, everything, which my lips can only stroke briefly.
I want a world which I can almost feel myself having sex with
when I feel my body connect with the damp atmosphere.