crossing nontransferable territory
you could hear bad moon rising
coming from the other room
the music somewhat muffled
fogerty’s voice unmistakable
stepping outside
it was pretty much the same
excluding the music and that
unmistakable voice
transitioning into inner nonsense
at the next stop
glass tri-fold doors open
exposing old men sitting on
metal benches
stitching together wounds
inflicted half a world away
speakers on light poles
suddenly become charged
casting shadows and
sounding alarms disguised
as folk rock from the sixties
trading wheels for wings
up up and away you go
defeating gravity and
orbiting unfamiliar rhythms
bursting above the clouds
february two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
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