Great Kills Review
Winter 2005 – Volume I, issue 2
|
Jonas Kyle-Sidell |
The sun filters in as I walk home in the
early morning hour. My spirit is winding
down in the powder air. Crushed
cigarettes hug the sidewalk beneath my
feet.
Beer bottles and other trash line
the curb.
My dreams, a bit stale on my
breath, hang before me faded. A mirage
abandoned by night. What is left?
But
it's more than that, I believe, when the
rhythm takes hold. Everybody in the
city seems to be cutting their losses,
now.
Looking ahead to freshening up
this afternoon. Moving towards our
doors, this 5am. We trickle along
down in these streets of gold. Dew
drops in the light.
I went on hiatus. You left town for
a while.
So let this be our sunrise
after sabbatical leave. Oath to solidarity.
We could stay here on the
roof until this madness, this city,
besets itself. Over time, it will get
beside itself with reveling in waste
and growth and new arms and legs.
It will run ‘til it drops. And finally
combust when its energy squashes
that of Nature. Then there will be
darkness over the city. A few folks
will learn, however, to come together.
And the city will twitch with
the simple revelation of a golden
dream.
Become resurrected by a
refraction of peace. Then mobilize
to a harmony of need. I say, destruction
is gradual but it's path is
easy to see.
Let's you and I make
a choice to be healthy. This fine
morning.
(As we click our cups
of coffee over sunrise,
after leaving so hastily.)
About the Author
Jonas was born and raised in
“Saturday Night” © 2005 by Jonas Kyle-Sidell
“
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