THE NEXT CURVE

Songs of dreams jump the river,

heavy with nights and clouded rains.

Scuffed shoes on the beach and

shirt tails shake the wind.

The Nickel Bar calls the faithful

by aroma, even the sour and stale

from the evening before.

 

Johnny comes home, proud to be

standing. The hope of many buried

in suitcases of lost goals where the

land gasps one more time.

 

Wish upon a star while sleeping

with visions. Around the next curve

could be home.

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