Dusty Nation

by Allan Lake

So much narrative now in rear view

but I won’t miss international flights

in economy. Gone the urge to go up

and over, around a globe, to cross oceans.

The lovers, friends, lovers who became

friends or, in one case, a fiend that

required a restraining order.

Old houses became homes, requiring

plaster, fresh paint, shelves for books

that over time collected dust. Then

walls again cracked and whispered

goodbye because goodbye was all

that was left to say.

So much now is past as I study what

looks like a line between sea and sky.

Moody waves and clouds pushed by

wind that shoved me through time

till I ended up or down in this non-

nation state referred to as living

before finally coming to rest.

There’d be a plotless book in it

which would surely gather some

fine dust but I shall merely mutter

a synopsis to some passing ravens

while remaining semi-conscious

in limited edition dusty air.