
Perhaps
I thought I heard
an invitation
where none existed,
to I imagine I might
disappear
for a moment,
an almost-man
in an order
defined at birth,
pretending
to construct a place
in a land
where I held no roots,
no grounding
or understanding
of the forces
driving the wheels
that turn, spin and weave
out of darkness
the light that guides you
as you ride
against the wind
for good or ill
but,
even then,
sometimes I think
I catch a glimpse
of the world that built you
from the ankles up:
the playing fields
and running games,
impossible white pants
and vested uniforms,
the grit, grins and grimaces
of boys wandering
arm around shoulder
through dusty streets,
conspiring to dream
a dream
I almost fell for.
…
Joseph Schreiber is a writer based in Calgary, Canada. He is criticism/nonfiction editor at 3:AM Magazine,
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