Tennae Maki

 

Carbon Dating

 

 

Parked in petrol stations, sitting in cars with open doors

Running down desert highways in trainers and blue jeans

Kicking dust into pools of gasoline.

 

Sipping on slurpees, beads of sweat still found dripping 

down backs

 

A horizon line that is nothing but a mirage, the only thing

known is that it's sure to be of like colors. Ochre and red.

 

Even the clouds seem to be distilled in glass, filtering into

that grand mass. 

 

The pay phone sitting at the side of the road,

the one worth the run, the one just beside the gas station's curb

It seems to predate the soil it sits upon. 

 

 

 

When then folds into now and the wind carries distant messages

 

 

With arms over laid upon one another's shoulders, by way of distant memory,

two sisters did sit, with heads cradled in their hands. Just there, upon chairs,

at opposite sides of the ocean. 

 

You told me you were going to the old stone church, the one across from the 

square, the very one where we first met. 

There was a breeze that day. You could feel the weight of the salt water, surly

from the cove that wasn't far away. I haven't felt one as heavy since. 

 

Their necks and faces were wrapped in scarves, concealing the tears that crept

out, absorbing the salty wet and protecting the hard beaten air of the wind.

 

 
 

THE COURTSHIP OF WINDS

© 2015 by William Ray