Behind the Lines

they come to me

behind my eyes

behind the wall

behind the sleep

they tease me

they taunt me

and only then

are they released

into the ether

or onto the page

they lay in wait

they lay in lines

of uniformity

of calamity

a riotous evocation

awaiting recognition

approval and attention

they come to me

when i’m driving

and i either pull over

and jot them down

while they are there

while the work bell waits

while the ice cream melts

while the take away dinner

gets cold

while i get old

it's either that

or they

are forgotten

and lost

to that time