another poem

The Fog
by Katie Boyden
(5/29/09)

the fog rolls in on the sunniest days
stops us dead in our tracks
‘cause we wanted to play.
makes decisions that we
didn’t know we would make,
and we take credit for those,
that we just shouldn’t take.

I saw your eyes in a traffic sign,
a green, watchful gaze
guiding me from behind.

I tripped on the dirt as I watered the plants,
like Alice and the dandelions
in some silly dance.

the fog is a wine,
the fog is a time,

the fog is a person,
the fog is a line.

I waited and waited and waited that day
I jumped and I shivered,
I sat and I stayed.

but the gloom kept sinking,
while I sat there, drinking
and wondering why,
looking at the white sky
that anyone even cares what I’m thinking.

you finally show,
but you feel like a dream
an imagined, once memory
of past infused steam

I sit and I sit and I wait and I think
look over my shoulder
look down in the sink

if ivy can crawl
and roots can grab hold
and old vines keep fruiting
there’s hope, so I’m told

what is it that flickers
in the light and the shade,
a promise of happiness?
or a dream that will fade

a room full of shadows
a sky full of plans
a wine glass half-empty
the palms of my hands.

yet I just keep hoping
that someone will notice
the mendacity here,
that it will somehow take focus

the edges are blurry
the lines won’t show clear,
and I feel you the most
when you are not here.