Since You Didn’t Ask and Other Poems

By Richard LeDue

Since You Didn’t Ask

Don't ask me
where this poem
is going-
I should probably bring
a yellow crayon
to the sun,
not just add more clouds
using a pencil,
sharpened with a butter knife
and found years later
in an old shoebox,
long after switching to a pen,
and over 4000 kilometres from home.

Unable to Grasp

Moonlight escapes through fingers,
regardless how tight they're clenched.

Hands restless afterwards.

Another sleepless night
haunted by light-bulbs,
supposedly keeping away darkness,
while bloodshot eyes watch
a door left ajar,

waiting for someone who can't come back.

Two Dollars Off With a Fill-up

Wish I could marvel at a car wash,
be amazed at each sud,
almost believing it all to be magic,
but I've always preferred muddy tires.
They tell a story of where you've been,
how life means more than shine,
and all those who admire well waxed
hoods, are the same who worry
about mileage, rising gas prices,
while sitting at home
with no where to go.