thoughts emerge aloud, unintended,
launching like a hunting dog set free, with field bound abandon,
formerly muted details escape,
mystify other patrons in this grocery store check-out line
 
what item can I buy to reveal the difference between how i see myself
and how others figure me? i look for obscure totems, seek what light or shadow shining
will bring my thoughts to functioning fettle,
show me first steps toward possible
 
the sustaining confine that we were is no longer available, the source is
gone, replaced by shock, broken gears scoring into the metal of me, rough wires that stretch every simple activity into barely discernible days, render me immobile, every task ridiculous
 
can’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t see the forest for what it was, I saw the penny on the tracks, but missed the train racing silent beside a gorge, too late
 
struck awake, i carve a long list of former certainties from my page, into a new present,
a crush / shift / change of someone special, even admired,
who can no longer brook the sight of me
 
we are given our change of station by some stranger in a court room, while a small terror plays jangle with his key ring at the next table, sounding like a ballpark organ playing pep rally music, irrelevant to me
 
and i hear the distant clack of typing down the hall, but no one types here anymore, at the off-ramp from a marriage, a kind of traveling friendship
 
what can i assemble with these pieces i see?
i waver in my commitment to this strange inventory


Mark David Noble is a writer, videographer, and multimedia developer who enjoys working on poetry, plays and short stories. His work has been published in newspapers, magazines, and as lyrics for choral music. He is also a poetry graduate of the Community and Mentorship Program (C.A.M.P.) at the Writer’s Garret and a retired firefighter from the Mesquite Fire Department.