Lives on wheels not so far from those on stilts
they drive alone on highways to the next piece of life
into hurricanes, valleys, snowy peaks and oceans
welcoming potholes, curves, bumps and near misses.
Couples in cars stoic under the brewing storm
forget to speak long for an amorous embrace upon the sands
precious metals once full of their undying passion
now fail to mirror their hopes under the darkened avenue.
Families in vans a space too close for a summer dream
throwing wrappers, bottles, cries, songs and tantrums
on paths to a happiness lost in the somber spaces of the desert
now wishing they could return to a past which bid them leave.
Idle ones in their motorhomes fading into their fiery ends
at peace at last with lips full of giggle, laughter and cry
vivid memory of a first glance, the touch of a hand
no one will know as they speed into the shroud of eternity.
Now somewhere behind a hearth has grown cold
in clusters of existences which drifted into ice long ago
roads bearing wrinkles of many abandoned earthquakes
tell no story as they left not a sign in their fading wake.
Facing the invisible he walked on
into the tunnel beneath the great surface
confronted by what may have been a hurricane.
He once had eyes to scan his dark surroundings
now only wearing the long coat of the adventurer
rains of sand assail him like so many beasts.
The destination is unknown far into the distance
every step a risky venture into fatal dangers
blind he pushed on, pulled by a mysterious hand.
Recalling days on the other side he senses a light
dim as if it were part of another world
an aura not unlike his own, strives for unity.
Alone he may be lost in the multitude
forced onto a path he never truly sought
yet filled with the eternal hopes of the stars.
In suspending animation
dangling in mid-air
a state natural
expected.
What may happen next
without knowledge
of what was
first.
Bathed in a dry sea
floating endlessly
in truth,
weak.
Prisoner of a moment
undetermined;
perhaps it is
a millennium.
There will be no remembrance
of the awkward exhibition
but for those who will
catch him.
Swaying between here and there
attached to nowhere
known in no time
living, dying?
Light soon will come again bright
to awaken the odd sleeper
in a slap of red hot heat
night conquered.
The fall will be harsh when the ties are cut
remaining to wonder why, what,
he may search in vain
for a glimpse lost.
Friend, mother, lover, babe, descendant,
all in awe before the dark oddity,
and the knowledge he alone
holds.
Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.