bliss station ~ poetry

doedoe

on the slab with the ringing near, a doe walks by and I say look and they say there are many and I say but this is the only one this and that is the only one that.

love the doe, refusing to walk into the night, lingering by the trees pimpled with sun, grinding chin where a pond once was, turning eyes where monsoon should've been, not thrilled at the water can rolling towards her because the ground under is curvaceous.

it walks off, at a run, not a wild one over tree knots but a mockery of the running at traffic lights, prompted by the automatowoman's countdown, three two and you cross even if you don't want to, behind buses to realize they won't go to your home, to trains spilling with college, looking back is a secret smile and she does that before disappearing.

the ground around rises, curves like the snakeboat a wind and two pink tickets away, like the sea under it, waving, full moon scooping up ice cream, see, a dark hole with light in it, gaia in a remonstrating rotation, you running against it at escape velocity, the hamster wheel revolves around you, don't smile central, you tumble along the circumference, a hawk unable to walk until flight, and you love the doe, you are the doe.

~Ajay
6/7/2019