Leapdragon 2016 - Aron Hsiao Was Here

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On any given day,
gray,
cloudy,
filled with rain,
the roads can take you there.

Ten miles or
twenty,
winding, in wind-swept
solitude, hands on wheel,
you drive.

Along the coast,
you pass hauntings,
ghosts of peoples’ pasts,
docks, boats, footprints,
and voices hung in air.

At length you are at the shore,
final edge of the sea;
around you seagulls, unsatsfied,
call out your name in foreign tongues.
“Are you still alive?”

You pause,
waves lapping at your feet,
smelling the salt air.
You bend; you collect a rock;
you skip it.

You wonder.