What can you show me
with your spork mirror,
your runcible visions
of past, present, and future
like when we drove
through the take-out window
at Popeye’s
and unwrapped the cellophane
where you revealed not white plastic
that would break at a touch
and a napkin, but
a feast of all that had passed
in the rear-view, then
watching the rain through the windshield
our road ahead gone
because laughing together
once again
we were too late, too late
for whatever we imagined
the looking glass had on offer.
For The Sunday Muse
A feast of all that had passed in the rear-view….i love that!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!!!
LikeLike
This oneβs a tear jerker …. It resonated.
LikeLiked by 1 person
watching the rain through the windshield
our road ahead gone
This part made me feel sorrow as the road was washed away with no where to go. Perhaps, there is a new road somewhere to travel.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great bittersweet imagery in this.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Our road ahead has definitely changed. Some great imagery in this Qbit!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m thinking the ‘spork mirror’ wasn’t showing both ways, probably not even one.
You could make this into another verse of the Highway to Hell song. “Up and down this highway, ⦔
..
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ahahaha! You are right.
LikeLike
The spork mirror had me thinking and what a visual poetic write my friend.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks. “Spork mirror” almost sounds as cool as something you would say!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are welcome.
‘Spork Mirror’ is yours and it sounds cooler from you. π
LikeLiked by 1 person
All that’s passed in the rear view, the road ahead gone β¦ now THAT’S living in the moment, albeit in Popeye’s drive-through!
LikeLiked by 1 person
LOL!
LikeLike
I hate when that happens, I really do. It just leaves a person with an unsatisfied appetite and a bunch of poems. π¦
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ahahaha! I don’t care for the poem all that much, but I did like saying “spork mirror.” That was fun. But it feels like the conceit wasn’t enough to carry an entire poem, or I just wasn’t able to make the metaphor interesting enough to extend that far. I think if I was to do over (No do overs! Onward!) I’d break it down in to some cluster of odd surreal couplets or such, then say something mysterious to close it out. The usual.
LikeLike
To paraphrase Marshall Crenshaw, you never bother with the usual thing. π
LikeLiked by 2 people