And the others withhold
experience
from me.
 
So that I sit,
and stare,
and continue to wonder
about the stranger nearby
 
who once had crystalline eyes
that dazzled
with hope, escaping life’s lies
and flew over trouble.
 
To the pitts below,
honesty is honourable
and Oblivion quivered her bow
to Cerberus’ collar fit unstable.
 
The certified planter
in his dusty garden
put gloves on
a bit late
 
but wasn’t found out
so he communed
with the neon red
truck stop sign,
glowing blue like
a ballpoint pen
that wrote this poem
in black.

(2015)

Color, Eyes, Mystery, Poem, Parker, Jennings

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