SR-14

Leaving work at sunset,
I wind my way down a gray stretch
of road. Scraggly brush and litter at the side
of a swampy ditch--a small metal shed catches
the sunlight just so and is transformed into a brilliant
monolith, like a doorway to another universe.

It's as if there's power in the universe
to remake all of us at sunset
into something better, more brilliant.
I can feel myself changing, stretching
out like a phoenix to catch
what’s left of the light I still have inside.

Some days, I feel like I've been turned sideways.
It's not as if I'm the only person in the universe
to feel this way. Amidst the rubble we strain to catch
a warm flicker of fire before the sun sets,
sending us into the night--darkness stretching
out before us in sable brilliance.

The trick is to not let the brilliant
aching of monotonous routine sidle
up to you. To keep the days from endless stretching
out like a ticking clock. To remember that the universe
has more in mind for us. Like a metal shed at sunset,
we are both glowing and dim, and mostly caught

somewhere in between. The catch
is to remember that brilliance
can happen near a swampy ditch, or a in car at sunset.
That whoever you appear to be on the outside,
you are more like a streaming comet, circling the universe
than cold metal, by a long stretch.

It's the space between your ribs as you stretch
that holds oxygen to fan the fire. Release the catch
on the door, and breathe into the universe
a sigh that strains forth, brilliant
in its desire, exhaling and expanding inside,
a glowing sphere of fire at sunset.

The sunset, a blazing pink so brilliant
it catches the tree tops and makes them glow, stretching
out besides me like a fiery sign from the universe.