Beside Me In the Traffic
The city's august hell-heat
choking lungs and stinging eyes,
stranded car and driver hoods agape
spew boiling geysers to a summer sky.
And we, as cattle going to market
slowly inch our way toward the promise of relief.
Beside me in the traffic
I (with shutter-camera eye)
briefly caught the image
of a sister of the search.
Her eyes were your eyes
were eyes of longing and wonderment.
The city's august hell-heat
now unnoticed faded into memories
of a summer long ago
when we, beneath a backyard cherry tree,
would speak of transcendental Love and Truth.
Your queries were more answer than question,
your requests, an unexpected gift
that like the sylvan canopy above my head
gave refuge from a singeing inner heat.
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