Cloud covers turned down,
stars each safe in their place,
I navigate the highway
made from deep space
below cozy blankets of atmosphere,
but it doesn’t take.
An hour later, I’m awake,
a fitful dream,
a crime scene,
constellations on either side of me,
bodies lined in chalk,
memories exhumed craters.
I’m left in the dark
with disconnected clues,
my subconsciousness a vacuum,
and the more I try to recall my part,
memories slip,
two ocean liner ships,
the helm light faint
although we are but miles apart.
©2024 | K.F. Hartless
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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