City of Remembrances and Torrid Fruits

~remembering Colombo as it grieves…~

image on Pixabay by mac8oppo

For a month every day,

I sat on a rock,

looking for omens away from you

above a chameleon ocean.

Shameless faces of pawn shops,

like cries that never end, haunted me,

and at bus stops, dull black shoes

filled with leaden limbs.

Though splashes of pink and golden hibiscus

riddled the air,

I saw only faraway tankers

on a child’s blue game board

come bearing fossil fuel,

dry milk and Tasmanian apples

for the privileged

who sail past wasted limbs,

lives run dry lived out

under a tattered parasol’s illusions.

Pixabay

Then you looked at me

I tumbled into your arms,

those narrow streets

running down to the beach,