It all started with a kiss
that was something like a dirty bomb
going off unexpectedly
in a populated city
in a movie that I’d seen before
where the survivors walk the streets
but the reaction takes years to dissipate
among the residue,
ticking off seconds on a Geiger counter
while one character tells another,
through eyes filled with pain and longing
that when you love someone,
sometimes that means you have to be a stranger
whether you want to or not.
Sometimes that means arriving in a place
unfamiliar; gray colors undefined and
sharp points around every corner,
cutting deep, often wounding, always
past, present, and future, I watched
a strange sixth sense develop, as
blanks fired into a dystopian landscape
two people fighting to the end of love
not even sure if the end could ever be
and like my favorite poet’s song,
kiss still lingering, I knew
someone had to tell the tale and
I guess that it was up to me
Photo Credit: Alex [Fino] LA Flickr via Compfight cc
