celestial tree

Hainan (and where the Sky met the Sun)

Yellow plastic reinforces this already bad back.
Schisms numbed by the remedy - Drink,
A “wish-wash” and lobotomy prior all but night,
My neon-centric surrounding, this only friend,
Beneath skies so very foreign and starless.

When one nerve burns, two more remind
That I’ve a home; celestial temples, trees that talk
And pillow-topped mattresses,
Hindered only, the one-way ticket
I wasn’t quite ready to purchase.

So I remained; hungry, starved and salivating,
Shifting something to the left of sanity,
Yet sane enough to shoot but one good glimpse
For something as simple as, “hello,”
And I get it; “hello,” a prelude of course.

She’s wearing the same tatters she’d worn yesterday,
The day before yesterday and probably tomorrow.
But that’s where the smell of sex seemingly bloomed –
This beach, this dirt, this humanity, this humility,
An untouchable touched.

She said, “hello,” and I dreamt not of home,
But the wondrous world within human hearts,
Within her; her and the sand she’d leave upon me,
Ancient, eternal and embedded,
With only time to judge each grain,
Be it penance or as passing.

    - L.C.