Yuxing Xia is an author and poet who has been published in 10 different countries in journals and magazines such as Society of Classical Poets, Strong Verse, and many others. He hopes to retire to an ostrich farm.
Within the crest of a lasting rain,
I held an umbrella hostage for a friend.
I stood wide-eyed for several hours,
waiting for a shadowy figure to emerge
and greet me with a sigh of relief.
I wondered if I (or my friend?)
was at the wrong spot and we wasted
time waiting for each other to reach
the other, only to find ourselves
lost inside the labyrinthine self.
Take a spin around the block
and let me know if you like the new car
because it’s your birthday and I wanted
to give you that pickup truck.
Run through some mud and a few mail boxes,
go opposite the one-way lanes and I will follow
the trail of twigs and leftover paint to your home.
As I savor this moment in the back seat,
we will make new memories along the highways
and floating dust, speeding under the cover
of moonlight and bumper stickers.
The moments we sacrifice
along the journey of increasing velocity
will not be lost once the brakes break.
Legions of time couldn’t fall
when we crossed the colored seas,
sailing with a creaky boat. Our heads
were raised above the mast
with salty air swelling our faces.
We could twist that old raft
in whichever direction we wanted
jumping up and down.
And the wear in the rudder
was telling of our clumsiness.
We knew the first sliver of land
was going to be cooked and eaten,
then stepped on and colonized.