Friday 6 July 2007

Vagabonds and Writers

My vagabond dreamer
drives through the night
I map his progress
golden push pins
in a map stapled to my wall
tracing his journey

Cell phone speak
Scattered sentences
I place them carefully back together
while I lay beneath my sheets
holding tightly to his words
because they’re all I have

The intangible him
is always here
traveling through my thoughts
a ghostly mist
of man and memory
Any form brings comfort

Another call
Another town
Another gold pin

If I squint in the darkness
they twinkle like stars
reflecting the streetlight outside
I drift to sleep
in my private celestial universe
dreaming of the vagabond
and me

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