Voyageur – a poem

The lights are diamond dust
That split the dark
Between the highway
And the towns
Staked with gas signs
And off-ramp billboards.
In the sky
Hangs that crescent shaped
Metal sliver
White as molten iron:
It is a lovers night.

Once upon a time
When I was younger than today
And the world seemed a simpler place
I thought I could save
Anyone who needed to be saved
Bus rides did not seem so long.
What happened is too old a story
Not worth itself
Or the ink it would use.
I’m on this bus now and read Hemingway
In love with the quiet purity of his prose.

Outside the window
The lights,
The diamond dust
The suburban stars wink out.
They are turned off
When morning breaks
And they are no longer useful.

© denis bernicky

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