Camus on Ocracoke
Camus is walking beside me,
but he says nothing,
he only looks toward the sea,
Albert mumbles these words,
“Qui se soucie aujourd’hui?”
“Today?” I say.
for meaning on the verge of Fall,
winter must come,
for people to crawl,
beneath the myths,
they think they sing,
to find the words,
in which they believe,
Summer isn’t a season,
that ever leaves,
it is an invincible place,
inside of the collective “we”,
a place to dwell,
ce n’est pas l’enfer
when the shops are bare,
our future sits not,
upon such silly cares.
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