Lookout

You and I
We are exactly what finds purpose in the night
All, Bronski Beat, synth exclamation points
And expectation

Parked
Remember cold stars dancing above your head
In broken-hearted time
Above gas station lights
Burned into the early morning
Where suburban childhood escape dreams
Lick at your ears
Whispering of the big city beyond

In the empty abandon
Talk frantically of the joy you caught
Briefly, between your fingers
On the dance floor
In your search for the ever-after
Bar-sticky and damp with sweat

And blinding now
As streamlined and illuminated
Eyes soar in memory
Across the lit spine of San Francisco
The Market Street night
Stretching in an endless neon glow
Where nothing is expected
And no one waits for your return

Because you and I
We are exactly what finds purpose in the night
All, empty, black highways
Broken lines, stretching towards infinity
The great continental dream


God grant us, our self-proclaimed anthems
The dusted yellow light of possibility
Born of smoking cigarettes
And ticking away time
On the fire escapes of your childhood daydreams
As your brain quiets, and hums
The great soul-song of the city
Finding purpose
In the roll and hiss of solitude

While safe now, inside
You find yourself, suddenly
Gaining ground
In the realization of transcendental dreams
Playing out
Inside your city-mountain-top temple
Shaped of sleek steel and dashboard lights

As through the window
You witness
TV tower crosses, braced red and white
Suspended in the distance
To receive your prayers
Eternal, in the fleeting hours before the sun

Because you and I, you know
We are exactly what finds purpose in the night
Like past lives, re-loved in memory
All, Bronski Beat, synth exclamation points
And expectation






© Tamar Zak-Collins, 2011