A puddle evaporates on a black tar
highway
and a thousand puddles vanish before
we reach the boardwalk
where a toy store sells the inflatable
duck that goes flat in the water.
Arriving and departing seem endless:
we drop until the hand of some strong
god lifts us up and out of this moment
of
confabulation.
Image and poem (c) Rob Goldstein 2017
Art by Rob Goldstein 
I’m not sure if my last comment went through. Sorry if this is a repeat. I wasn’t logged in correctly.
Hopefully the arrivals are so joyous that they will outweigh the deflating moments.
I love the picture. It reminds me of my brain right now at this moment.
LikeLiked by 1 person
After I finished it I felt I had taken a look inside my brain. Nice observation. Thanks!
LikeLiked by 1 person
When you can capture what is in my brain and yours, well that is pretty amazingly phenomenal! You are quite an artist!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Arriving means having departed from somewhere…they are very connected..
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes they are. Thanks Paula!
LikeLike