Routa Ecuadoriana

Crossed Casas

The sunny shores

beckon my brain

though I am at the beach

the waving winds

awake the aussie gums in me

though gums grow great & grey

the skies are a window

to those perfect painted afternoons

but here the sun sets over the ocean

and the dogs who roam fleabitten

are a totem to a curly haired beast

who here the canines need more love

And my Argentine family

how they swell up memories of home

beer in hand.

Hitchin’

Yellow feet left a mark in the middle

A history re-written mechanically

& us with heavy plumage

are fat in the back

the oxygen overwhelmes

and we are painted crazies by the wind

An outstretched thumb

brings our backsides to the seat

The seat - he changes skins

& tongues.

A cobbled plastic plate

at times a feather futon

or the jumpin’ metal of a beaten brown box

And here inside the film we flash
present in the pictures.

With eyes for the night

we take flight

and over the cementary of our dreams

we explode into our purble cartons

they cant see us when were ghosts

I can imagine us

socks off

crawling through the mud of danger

dressed in aggressive grinnings

with the battle birds singing overhead

and then I can see him.

He’s bringing menace to the bed

a drunken swim to thick air

and the breath of a beast

of smoke & far off coffee fields

where the sand scrubs beneath our bodies

a distaste from the cats mouth

his back arches in anxiety

we prepare...

step back...

lift up...

and blast the this ancient glass in all directions to escape into cloud folds

we sink in deep
greeting sleep.