Window Art Pilgrimage
Lipstick art on my window;
a hole in my screen
in the shape of a heart,
left for me.
Found some footprints
in the snow,
followed them
till they met the road.
Hundreds of strangers
compromising the scent,
but all going one direction
so I followed where they went:
Over the Appalachians,
across great plains,
through a muddy river
and towns with no names.
Buffalo and elk
traded peace for bait;
we washed our hair
in a great salt lake.
Camped in the desert
shaded by a snowy range;
No one had any answers,
or offered a name.
Rested and onward
to the end of the land,
we weaved through the city
like a marching band.
Lipstick started raining
from the sky,
and all the missionaries
began to die.
The trolleys stopped,
and the fog lifted;
the wind blew east
and the fault lines shifted.
The ground opened,
and sucked the world below;
only one room remained:
it had lipstick on its window.
The window opened,
and a voice called out my name
saying, “Sorry, I can’t save you,
but I’m glad you came.”
And I fell…
until the sky was a memory;
until that voice
couldn’t even remember me.
A lipstick heart on my window;
a hole in my screen.
I woke up too late
to recall the dream.
Copyright © Victor Dixon | Year Posted 2011
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