Tuesday, April 21, 2015

It is a foggy, rainy day here in Turners Falls, much like the day I wrote this:

                   View from a Parking Lot
                                 ~Nicole Kapise Perkins

There is a veil

Over this forgotten village;

People rushing to work, to school,

To their mistresses and money.

Tearing through the fog

They don’t see the silver sun

Shining through tree branches,

Parting for black telephone lines

Like lips for a kiss.

The library glows 

With Carnegie’s halo

As mist washes over its marble casements.

I’m late for work.

I want a camera to preserve the valley’s mist,

Watercolors to immortalize its soul.

Art isn’t for the living...

I start the car.

I’m off to brick and steel,

Glass that reflects the mist

But won’t let it in.

This view is for me alone,

Lost as I leave the parking lot.

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