a poem by M.P. Powers (2 of 2)

Twin Peaks Evening

We are right where we are
supposed to be.
On a traincar
moving along Puget Sound.

Past midnight.
And everything in here quivering
in pools
of slobbering color.

Roses throw lewd shadows on the walls.

The towns
go dark and disappear.

And how we have grown old.

Consumed
now
by a mightier sorrow.

Understanding
what Blake meant
when he said the devil is in the energy.

I pull you closer to me.
Your fingers rove up my chest.

The conductor mumbles something over the speaker.
39 miles.

Everything tending towards
its logical/illogical
conclusion.

As the towns
go dark
and disappear.

© by M.P. Powers
 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #11 ~ September 2010    previous poem