The engine chugs, sputters and dies.
an idea, an idea, my kingdom for an idea-
just one last ride, where the words
roar to life and spill out onto the page-
flows naturally like a rapid splashing river,
salmon leaping out the water, footsteps
dashing forward, freeing, pushing.
I want life to unfold one more time.
But maybe that’s my problem.
I remember something perfect,
but it was never that.
Push then, engine. Your belts may be frayed,
your pistons rusted, but
Throw me a draft that makes your bones ache
and let my words live.
