Hot Pursuit

Hot Pursuit

 

from Metro

a Traveling Tales of Waybackwhen book

 

The cold

does not bother him.

 

Etched into his bones

as the emptiness

resides there.

It has found

a home, to languish in.

 

It is where the heart is:

to have

and to hold

as it bleeds out

bridging fate and fiction.

What once

they shared

wrested between,

gate forever closing the gap.

 

Snow having fallen

flakes like teardrops

make their own tracks as well.

Ties and ballast

holding the rails

in place

his purpose

a shape.

 

Parallel lives

lines that will no longer

cross,

but that one

once he catches up.

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WORTH

shuttled through the tunnels

like so much spoiled meat

snuffling and a’snarling

this beast upon two feet

 

Minotaurian presence

half-man, the body shared

double the size of mere mortals

if anyone dared care

 

he had no strings to tie him down

or keep him on the path

this city was a festering sore

‘twas dim, and dank, and daft

 

it was another of their tests

the smarmy, grim cabal

gave no twine or map, no lights down here

as he felt along tepid tiled walls

 

cast about into the depths

naught much more than thoughts

how it was he got this far

how much he had lost

 

find his way somehow, he would

these subways built to last

also ran quite systematic

he’d be out before much time had passed