Blue Hills
You've got to wait outside.
Behind blue hills
on a highway
is a road stop,
white with red lettering
in the middle of nowhere.
The night Swan
left the city,
she went and stood out
on the ridge
overlooking the highways.
Light
circulating like a
bloodstream.
And she heard,
“If you can bear
the loneliness,
you receive the gift.”
So she put
her red suitcase
and the blue umbrella
in the trunk of her car.
Behind blue hills
on a highway
is a road stop,
white with red lettering.
And inside,
she wears a white sweater
and says, “Okey-dokey.”
Serving chocolate donuts
and black coffee.
You put the cream in.
And sometimes,
during the quiet times,
she tells me stories.
You’ve gotta wait outside,
She says
You’ve gotta wait outside.
There’s a little rain on you.
It’s just that you’re a little outside.
There’s a little wind-blown in you.
It’s just that you’re a little outside.
But lightning is filling
the desert,
turning it upside down
with the single sound
of chopping wood
and carrying water,
chopping wood
and carrying water.
Behind blue hills
on a highway
is a road stop,
white with red lettering
in the middle of nowhere.
At Christmas time
there’s a little tree
they put in the window.
It’s lights and tinsel
glow blurry
through the fogged up glass.
You can see it from out in the parking lot.
And inside, she sings.
My circles get tighter.
My mind gets lighter.
It won’t take the same,
it seeks to soar
on its own.
It becomes more
lonely,
it becomes more
free.
I am a free bird.
I live the night unheard.
No one else hears me.
No one else sees me.
I am invisible wolf.
Swan thinks,
I kept looking
for changes,
in all the wrong places.
So I took a job
at a donut shop,
where nothing will change.
The ancient symbol
of the ouroboros,
of the serpent
circular to its own tail
is like a hole in a donut.
As you digest yourself,
you disappear
from here to there.
As you digest your journey,
you disappear
from there to here.
You become the gift,
of the desert
rose.
Swan
Taylor Jane Green
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