Hidden on Commercial Street


Flipping of a coin from tail to head.

cart-wheels on the beach.

Drag Queen working the beat on Commercial street.

Bare-footing, on the sultry tar.

Hidden seaport cemeteries overgrown with unknown kin.

Similar searches…

Performed like a well manicured dance from centuries ago.

Gentle Journeymen and Women with unease being the common goal.

A sense of unique sadness for each seeker.

Respectively, all grinding down to the marrow.

Sure as there is salt in the blood.

And, annoyance from the misread.

If I could prosper my soul in this secret search.

I would unleash all that I have.

But cannot be bought.

Yet,

most likely,

I would rather stay a seeker.

Romanizing tales of lost love…

And, her deceivers.

 

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