Haiku Confab

I've ceased to exist buried under another. Hey! Can you see me? Proof I had a life, gone. In a box, a bag, buried too deep to unearth. Your stuff is heavy. There's too much of it to process. It's ok. Pile on.

Innocent soul, lost.  Agonizing, gut-punch grief. Why, mother nature?

Mom, high heels, never. Somebody's wife and mother. God first, then the rest. Sunday's dishpan hands style hair spun to golden floss every Friday. Beauty, love, honor. Human condition explored while packing lunches. Peeling potatoes, a knuckle scraped blood red. Anyone notice? How did you do it? Provide the foundation for other people's lives. No explosive throes, demands for acknowledgment. Just, what's for dinner? Grace, beauty, like truth, in the eyes of beholders. Mom, I'm watching you.

Manic episodes every ten years, it's late. I suffer no fools.

Looks belie the truth bubbling below the skin. A jolt brings up oil. A thinker you are, or, devourer of hype. Naked in the dark. This  rig 'bout to spark a river of flames and light. Revealing. Then, poof.

Crushing rose petals underfoot, your air is sweet. ...sickly, poisonous. Pathetically posed. Unctuous, slippery, fake. ...they're asking questions. Good good good good, bad. Failing, falling, crash. It's you... ...everyone knows.

Silos in the dark, Radio towers flash red. Sandusky exit. Pontiac. GM. F150 Ford pickup. One headlight, busted. Black mounds, what are you in the darkening distance? Stand of trees, waiting. Glowing horizon. Quaint town, all tucked in. Or, concrete cooling towers? Forest closing in. Damn highway roaring through it. I'm guilty. You too. 8.17.10, 9:30pm