wisdom

The spirit has escaped
to a dimly lit smoky cage.
Eye liner running,
she is huddled in a booth
with a clinking drink
and a desperately burning cigarette.

She can be found
in far off desert
crawling atop miles around sand
dark sky and stars lovingly
lighting her way.

Her fingers are
clawing, clinging
to mossy forest floor
as silent trees soak in her
cries and she collapses against an oak.
Her tears are absorbed by earth bark
and settle for the night.

Picture her
standing on busy city block
staring straight and true.
Her blues are red
and she has been delivered
to your doorstep.