a date with destiny, and amber eyes.

Run-down arcade on the corner of a bad block,
The locals say it’s haunted,
The owner died of electric shock.
But I don’t believe the stories,
Told for the dual purposes of preventing vandals,
And, too obviously deduced from the excited spittle
Forming in the corners of the peroxide-haired gossip's mouth,
Because every small town needs a scandal.
shaking my head, i turn away,
their blithe unawareness bothersome to my cause.
Atop of a grassless hill in dried and fried suburbia,
I lie among the stones, ants crawling over my eyelids.
Baking sun bears witness to the eagles’ dying call,
Graceful even in his final moments,
Swooping and soaring, so fast that maybe
heaven won’t catch him in time.
But then the clock ends its circle, and as the last grain falls,
So too does that magnificent creature who brought me here
To the place of my dreams.
I will enter that condemned arcade,
My footfalls will rouse the ageless dust
from disintegrated floorboards,
I’ll shatter the forbidden glass prism.
I’ll do it for him.