The thick plastic tube lay.
An alien vessel in our familiar pavement fields
Half full with stick we dare not touch.
He and I stared, scooped it up with glee
Smearing its tired leftovers on the stone,
Squeezed the sturdy plastic with our weak fingers,
Watched the brown paste dry, metamorphasize
Into the undestructible rubber that glues houses
And our mothers called us home,
The divine oddity looked after itself.
Nine Years.
Every day we died insignificant deaths
And every day I was newborn and wise, a phoenix-child.
My own fingers grew stronger
As his grew stranger.
I stretched away from the ground into the clouds
Away from our lives of concrete, mortar and
Grout.
Each I was born new, higher in the sky.
We fell apart
He and I and our domestic alien
His voice cracked and shattered
my hair yoyo-ed, long,short,long,short.
The tube vanished, binned,evaporated, recycled into tupperware.
We forgot each other and who we were.
Memories faded.
The only monuments lie glimmering on our inner eyes
And clinging resolutely to the concrete
Deep in the pavement fields.
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Written for a school reflective assignment. Help me name it. I want something to do with phoenixes, recycling, renewal. i don't know. Pavement fields was the first thing i could think of.
