There’s a place, at the intersection
of breakdowns and choices ahead,
where I have ownership, but avoid.
Courage resides there, and other
parts of self unnamed – I haunt
the place by night, intrigued by
the camaraderie, lack the guts
to venture into the unknown –
decidedly a criminal element;
need a sense of adventure to aid
escape, squeeze me past seedy,
neglected, cracked pane spaces;
lack wheels, coordinates confused –
am located who knows where –
war for independence my identifier.
In daylight, I am redeemed, visited
by semblances of normalcy, sweet
offerings of obligation, distraction;
revel in youth’s exuberance, pretend
that gifts of kindness sustain me,
ignore the relentlessness of corners.
One of my first adventures in Galveston, but definitely not one of my favorites, involved a roller coaster called the Mountain Speedway. It was located behind the Buccaneer Hotel on Seawall Blvd. We had gone Read more…