The Simple Beauty in those Three Little Dots

I remember, the trees as they blurred in lines,
With the telephone poles, as my hair snuck out the split of the car window
Or, the moths as they lifted from the lawn around that beige skirt

Simple atmosphere only comes with the energy this requires
But just like those trees, that memory—1 second laced with my chest's forgetting

That salty taste I licked from my lips
The night rain sung on the window, as the sun moaned in its ancient chair
I know this vague tip on my tongue keeps me pulsating
Trying as I do, to write this next line—
All the beauty that it could be
I leave it with those three dots
Each finger, one by one—relaxing as they should have long before
To let be what 'let' means—whether my understanding comes or escapes
Those words will never make contrast with this page
Nor find their place …

-Susie
4/18/2008