Half Life – A Poem

My oil pressure reads 50
as I think of you
in a lab coat
and remember

the days the three of
us would wander
free in the
canyons.

What is the half-life of radium?

There were the paths
out in the country
we would take
that led

through the sparse pine
and sage bush
to our shelter
in the

abandoned way station
neglected steel tracks
eroding into
the earth.

The night we all spent
there I wanted
to kiss you
but was

frightened, the
raccoons scratching
the ragged
wood plank

walls, dreams of
scorpions scurrying
along the dilapidated
floor boards.

So instead Sammy and
I told you about
a star that fell
from a

lady’s pocket as she
left Mitch’s Fine
Polish Cuisine
and rolled

across the cobblestone
sidewalk bursting
into confetti that smelt
like sulfur.

Sammy stayed just long
enough to feed
us his poison
before

he left, hiking down the
dried creek bed
filled with
roots and

the aroma of mesquite
and out of our lives
in a flash like the
Polish born star.

What is the half-life of a memory?

And we remained to part
as time apathetically bore
down, the strain
of years

drifting us away from our
mooring, our shelter
receding in
dry remorse.

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10 thoughts on “Half Life – A Poem

  1. Wicked flow man. Setup as a tangent, a departure from reality into the past. The descriptive prowess highlights your enamour for these experiences. We lose the touch of the ground as we explore memorable moments. Bravo

  2. “through the sparse pine/ and sage bush…” Possibly my favourite lines. I go to school in the city, and Kingston is one small and ugly example of a city. But back home I live with a forest and a wetland behind my house, and with spring I have been missing it so much. Your poem reminded me again of what I can look forward to this summer 🙂

    Lily

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