C L Bledsoe

 

Contemplating Elevators

 

Goodbye to Noise

     

 

 

Goodbye to the van, goodbye

to fists in the face of the world,

goodbye to the impetuousness

of trying. I haven’t forgotten

stairs; you never forget the tiny

ache of growing pains; your

bones simply creak when you try

to stand or sit. Goodbye to noise.

Goodbye to hard. It’s all easy,

now, soft, now. There are elevat

ors. There are sounds of disdain

pointed at anything that stands

out. Goodbye to curses. Good

bye to river valleys. There are still

mountains, but at the top they look

flat.

 

 



 

 

 

 


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