Creation

I’m a character in a play.
I forgot my name.

I write dialogue
I can not speak.

I write actions
I can not move.

At the end of every act
I create myself
to avoid slipping
dumb and blind
out of character
forever.

Reunion

It was held on a mountain top,
nothing but rocks in ‘66.
Some came limping.
Some came in wheelchairs.
Some strode in with energy and a light dust of gray.
Some had no gray or wrinkles
like they had just stepped out of 1966,
all fresh and bouncy.
I wanted to go for a ride in the hills
after that dance in ‘65.
Now
she still looks
just like the moonlight.