At the crossing, Dixie Salazar

IMG_6187Untitled, London Bellman


At the crossing

Time changes us, but do we change
time? Yellow leaves turn red despite
us and our hunger for speed or
pixel records of our latest
meal, proving matter does exist–
we’ve seen it on Facebook. But each
morning sky spills light onto our
heads, and more birds than we can know
the names of swing out of the trees
with no need for password or pin
number. The days whoosh by like a
passenger train’s mirage of lit
windows with people full of thoughts
whirling faster than the speed of
light. Flashing away, it drags its
heavy cargo of consciousness
leaving a big hole in the night.

Dixie Salazar

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