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Nowhere At All (Times Seven)


by Darryl Price


It's just an echo. Someone that 
I knew. I meant to answer you, 
stranger, but the stars kept ringing 
in my ear. You don't get any 
of it back. You just get to see 
the book closing in your hands or 
someone else's lap. Listen. I'm 
not sorry I kissed the moon. I 

had such light between my teeth for 
ages. When I would speak the most 
special words would come out glowing 
before melting back into the 
soaking wind like small animals. 
I got drenched to the bone even 
with an umbrella. So that sent 
message was never that subtle 

to begin with. Just an echo, 
but it made all the difference 
in the world to me. Because it 
was really a new song, but it 
sounded so familiar. And 
I began to hum my own soft 
version. I stood on tree limbs and 
calmly cast my fate with as much 

boy courage as I could muster. 
These things have a way of coming 
full circle back to us, looking 
for an explanation. Playing 
for fun forever was mine, but 
eventually even the 
gods and goddesses wanted sleep 
or more than enough money. That's 

when it gets lonely. That's when you 
can get lost. Because there's no one 
around to care. You're on, I used 
to say. You're on, I used to shout. 
Now I say it quietly to 
myself. They don't want to know. They 
all left the game when no one was 
looking in their direction, just 

because they felt guilty, or you 
know because they were hungry. I 
saw them in their windows smelling 
of bath water and moth wings. The 
passed-out sun promised to pick me 
up later that morning. I can 
still remember waiting alone. 
I waited a long time. I'm still 

kind of looking out at the world 
from that tender moment. So you
see echo or not it's only 
me. And now here you are. All the
things I meant to save and give you
have been torn out of my hands but
these few words. I know it's not much,
but I'm glad to see you again.



Bonus poem:



Red Shoes and Tiger Pants

What's not
to like?


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