Crest

The start is far behind us now
and there is nothing to divide us from our
days and nights where all the white wolves
in the valley stop and stare up at the now
neglected moon.

Tangled vines like veins behind an eye
are in the sky and they are moving like
the varied crooked patterns we align
our fading lights around in spite
of how unhappy we’ve become.

The background conversations at a meeting
for a new age proclamation are about how
tired people get after hours of waiting.
The drinks are brought in by robots
that look exactly like a magazine would tell you
but their teeth look just the same
as yours or mine.

This city is like a pile of now deflated
Halloween masks and the white curtain
blocks your vision through the window
where the world is at its knees.

Get out of the way before the crowds
come out to meet you on the roadside
where the wind is getting stronger
and the crest of every wave is like a mountain.