Postcards From The Future

we sit on cliffs
beneath the sandpaper dunes of rum
red as flustered cheeks
watch the sun play
hide and seek with the blustering mountains
as we introduce the desert
to rock music
until the stars demand
our silence

we sit on green hills
overlooking castles
in the pale sky
between tormented cedars
that bend with the wind
who howls his poems
like ginsberg

we had unraveled Jordan
sometime during intermission
and took to drawing its portrait
with our frowns
using thin wafers of light
and what thunder the sky could spare

and we came home
like adventurers returning
losing ourselves once again
on streets that wind
like the mazes in our heads
losing ourselves to the image
of adult life
that we swore we'd never lead

mourn the static;
read postcards from the future
and think out loud
how sometimes...

we
just
need
to
get
away
from
this
city
.
.
.