Poem

Mortgaged Thoughts From the Edge of the Universe CONNIE SONG I remember standing on the edge of the universe waiting for the morning train exhausted from the climb — soaked from the rain deafened by the noise — scuffed from the wear and tear of time and from being alone in a stifling crowd. I remember thinking you were not the same person I once knew. And sighing that I was not the same person you once met — at the intersection — waiting for the light to change. But there is beauty to be found in the harvest of autumn as well as the bloom of spring. I want to feel the same bliss as before but they’ve bolted shut the gates of heaven they dug up the hydrangeas and Himalayan poppies they peppered and plowed the Saratoga grass they demolished and dismembered the giant solid oak trees that daily fed acorns to anorexic executioners and bloodthirsty parasites. For a wicked price they mortgaged the ocean and unsalted the sea before kidnapping a random taxi and in just a brief moment I awoke from my dream — and pinched myself that there was still a lovely, poetic, splintered moon next to perforated stars in an onyx sky, and a table reserved for you and me. Thanks💖🥰💞 Grace notes: Dedicated to all the dreamers who reminisce about love and life, and everything in between