Salvia

In the breath and in the glint
of sunshine every fragment of air
spoke clearly the rhythm
of the forever melancholic afternoon glaze
of fecund woods blowing on the wind
of old cars in cracked lots
shaded beneath the caterpillar branches of noon.
The wild golden smiles of descending autumn
promise a youth no clock could crucify
but stars burned by the airport
a balloon remembrance
nights of not knowing
the eternal ephemeralness of the whole operation.
Candlelit mahogany wall yesterdays
when rays of light shone on twirling dust ballets
for the early evening customers.
My cold hobo times spent in cigarette smoke showers
filthy with minutes wasted
when they seemed so many.