Seeing the Invisible Fence
I wonder what will become of my files, my little impervious connections to the outside, when something becomes of me. What will become of my books, my pictures, my soft twirling chair, my bulletin board overflowing with
quotes cut from magazines, my frequent sub shop card, my used bookstore
credit, and postcards sent by relatives and friends and people I don't
speak to anymore. Will they disappear as my bones decay into the ground
or would someone grab them with both arms hanging on tight before they
follow or would they let go in favor of filling a wading pool with ice
and beer and soaking feet and shins with a garden hose making a sudsy
toast of sorts the kind you won't find on paper cards attached to flower
wreaths.
A Corvair Tale
A Corvair in my rear view mirror,
shiny, red, gleaming, twinkling chrome
at me reminding me how
I used to want one
to cruise the old roads like 66,
the highways, the two lane roads
in the middle of nowhere. It
sits there, that Corvair
giggling in the sunlight
top down, arms open wide
and it wouldn’t matter if
the radio worked, my ears
tuned to the drive
the mowing down of scenery,
pavement – a better occupation
than ever imagined. A Corvair
in my rear view mirror disappears
from sight almost as fast as my life.
Bionote
LB Sedlacek's poems have been published in publications such as
"Foliate Oak Literary Magazine," "Mastodon Dentist," "Fickle Muses,"
"Apparent Magnitude," "Sea Stories," "Ginosko," "Connotations Press,"
"Tertulia Magazine," "The Hurricane Review," and others. LB's latest
chapbook is "District of Confusion (the Washington DC poems)." <lbsedlacek@charter.net>
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