I can see through
The soggy afternoon,
Your words inspired
By ancient pines,
Sapping laughter,
And mining ingenuity.
Paper amusement,
Midnight pens,
Pause only for a moment,
To let me in.
I am nothing more than a mirage,
A psychedelic relief
Expressed on a napkin,
Then soaked in the marinade
Of memories
Not belonging to me.
Certified dreams,
Moonlit poise,
Pause only for a moment,
To let me in.
I’m half-naked,
A bellowing delight
In proof of Emerson’s
Wildest imaginings,
And once again,
Three times as happy.
Documented joy,
Beneath my tree of reality,
Sometimes I pause
To let me in.
Pamela Davison
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/as-soon-as-i-get-there/
