Getting There

Artist: John Leonard

 June bug.  That’s a fun thing to say.  Marble.
Quixotic.  Glass Chandelier.  Two kids who
have fallen off their bikes.  Blood, but only a little,
tracing the texture of a sidewalk. 

Think of the clouds as a sort of rhyme.
If you can think of them as an elephant,
or as a vague castle, you can think
of them as a rhyme.  You can do that much. 

Maybe you can do this while driving,
almost always to somewhere that you
don’t want to go.    I’m right,
but hopefully          I’m wrong.   

I’ve been wrong before; mostly in memory.
Too much green or not enough valor, almost
always too much stubborn paleness. 

We’ve all got a stored up confession,
thick with dust and not quite useable. 

Mine is in a fishing tree, a perch that my high school
bully showed me. To be fair, she was only vicious
some of the time.  Part time really. And the rest
of the time was spent almost touching fingers. Sunlight
and a bucket full of bait.  Laughing at the thought of  

Hey, maybe tomorrow. 

We should each do a hundred Hail Mary’s or spend
an entire afternoon helping turtles cross the road;

some type of penance for always saying,

Hey, maybe tomorrow.

More at @jotyleon