by Jennifer N. Shannon
trains remind me of the 20’s
eyes peering from the caboose
“all aboard” carving out its space amidst other sounds; flirting
seeking or fleeing
taste-buds itching for destiny
a great migration
storm clouds would follow.
Photos by Jennifer N. Shannon
salty dirt roads holler out caution
abandoned homes beg to keep out
chains, fences to keep in
I grew up there
the prettiest town in Dixie
in Dixie, bare foot
picking fallen pecans
hop scotch in the street
something back then spoke to me told me
I followed the whispers
without hearing any sound.
smoke cuffed between two fingers, breeze wafting its pollutants about the lungs of others who walked by. he stared off into future images. head mostly filled with visions and schemes for newness. finally he snapped back into now, dumped the ashes
gazing down towards various footsteps. he pushed his slouched body away from the antique building, softly caressing hard fingertips against temples. uneasy with how he left, unwilling to
go back. “I was wrong,” he contemplated, but “right.” all he knew was back in that space
those familiar voices. but his mind lay somewhere in the future. secretly he was hopeful. even in uncertainty he was ready for identity. for happy. peering nowhere in particular, hands contained in pockets, hat pulled towards brow, he subtly planted himself in-line with others
who were chasing destiny.
jennifer n. shannon (jns) is a writer, poet, creative. she’s authored and published three books and has had short stories and poems published in literary magazines. she can almost always be found pouring her heart into various forms of expression, in hopes of inspiring others…visit www.jennifernshannon.com to experience those means of expression.