IN NOVEMBER’S COLD EYE
you look vaguely
familiar
staring back from
the mirror
a face I’ve not seen
in such a long long time
but you were
there in the beginning
weren’t you?
just before the
tumble
into Spitfire
models
microscope and
telescope
girls and loud music
the guardians
photography…poetry
yet to light the way
and still here
or back again?
in a varying
reverb
we finally see
the truth
in monitoring
the progressive
regression
as one by one
they all fall by
the wayside
the passions
multiple
abilities
skating and
cycling
running insanely
until we could
feel hearts
beating out of
our chests
never the talent
wasted
though now it
sits
in cluttered
boxes
in the basement
as if planning to
move
each one
carefully labeled
for better times
like riding a
motorcycle
or making love
with you always
by my side
doing the
administrative work
of infernal
statistics
using only the
beat
of butterfly
wings
as your calculator
and more than aware now
as I turn a cold
eye
at the world
around me
© 2005 Chris Sorrenti
