Curbside Dali Poem by nathan martin

Sitting under the lamplight at midnight,
I break the mortared silence with the strike of a match.

I have a pocket full of camels and a sky filled with
large elephant like raindrops which fall slowly through
an asylum of orange lamplight resting over me.

i watch them descend downward to walk about me
crooked and cumbersome,
like some Dali portrait upon the pavement.

they breath and pause for a moment to
stoop in their long legged prose.
gathering to reflect in a puddle on the corner,
by someones words i had heard earlier that morning.

In the leaves i will put them i think.
Maybe the passing wind will do me this favor
and carry them off, leaving no sense of direction or guilt.

but like a good subject i sit very still for my portrait.
to sail with lock and key through the shadowy
chambers of solitude, waiting their holding
night by the wrist I sit curbside.