Drive across the aimless asphalt,
seeking ventures gained and lost.
Your hand is soft in mine,
the patina of your skin a road map
of anxious lines and weary learnings.
Today the sun and hills call forth,
in a circus maximus fanfare,
full of rolling fields and girdled cows;
ecstatic lens flare in every vista,
like a bargain basement special effect.
These times we spend are fleeting,
flying from our lonely pigeon coops,
hankering for domestic ventures,
the taste of quixotically exotic foods.
Your hand, so soft in mine,
my hand, so soft in yours.
Drive on, until our conjoined experience
merges with the murky sunset
and the road leads to your door.
I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many donโt appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.
Not sure about “conjoined experience” because my odd mind first read it as “conjoined experiment,” but I love the happy, drive-anywhere-together picture the whole poem painted for me.
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Conjoined experience lol!!!! Maybe I should rewrite it about Siamese twins… ๐
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The Darker Chapters: Steve’s alternate take on his own poetry.
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Or a Tale of Two Sinners. Conjoined and Deadly. Siamese Dreams. When Good Twins Go Bad. Siamset Boulevard. A Few Good (Conjoined) Men. ๐
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