Late night sitting,
so much of it consumed
with chipping fragments of stone
from a boulder,
art that bares no consequence.
When the car pulls up, stopping,
one last pack of cigarettes.
The moment presents itself in full
clarity.
Four wheels were hugging every curve
and
knuckles are still white from death
gripping
the stirring wheel.
This is where true laughter begins and
ends.
There was no race,
just an intense interest in the moment,
and what of this moment
and those to come.
Promises have been made
and promises have been broken.
If these tumbled walls and fallen
rafters
are ever assembled to form a home
again,
I will have finally succeeded
in turning lead to gold.
