Friday, April 7, 2023

Harrisville Vapors

 


 

From the general store porch the view

southeast fades in sky-hung vapors.

The day-care playground rackets

with squeals, shouts, and audible tears.

At a round metal table we sip

our coffee gently to prevent

 

the world from spinning out of orbit.

The black surge of waterworks

fueling the brick mill complex

sulks along between snowbanks

that won’t thaw for another week.

I recount my silly dream. Walking

 

up High Street we pass a dumpster

where men are cleaning out a house.

One offers a toilet repair kit

that otherwise will be trashed.

You claim it with thanks. We walk on.

Such a practical dream defies

 

vapors drooping over lowlands

where the lake sprawls for a mile

of heavily taxed water views.

The children dash indoors, surely

for a snack or a nap. Silence

drapes the factory bell tower

 

like a windblown rag. We nibble

a shared doughnut. We refill

our insulated coffee mug

from the stainless urns arranged

like mourners beside a grave.

The wind combs through distant trees

 

in search of lost time. We finish

our coffee and consider the day

sprawled before us, the color

of the atmospheric vapors

too far from the usual spectrum

to furnish us with a clue.

 

 

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