American Bittersweet

When I met you,
you were tapping the bark of a tall tree.
Your fingertips telegraphing the living sap,
keeping time with a song in your head.

Just off the designated path,
with cosmic black boots planted wide
with stark white earbuds planted deep
you were like to the surrounding scene
as a titanium kingpin is to a skateboard truck.

When I met you,
you were madly sweeping the fir needles
with a freshly fallen Douglas Fir branch,
connecting the rhythms with the lyrics.

Just below the Allegra curves,
where Sword fern juts from fallen timbers
with the nonchalance of communal wisdom
you were like to the surrounding scene
as an orchestra is to Her cascading vocals.

When I first met you,
your counterpoint eyes played melodically
with the stern caution of my movements.
Our nonverbal cues and finger strokes seriffed,
we spoke together with slender skin words
until we came together on Allegra’s soft slopes.


K. Shawn Edgar | Cog Masher | Timbered | Goth Newt

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