Make Believe by Tom Pescatore

Did this happen yester-
day or were you standing
outside my window under
the cool rain of primitive
stars of all those years ago–

and why can’t I remember your smile?
seemed like such a little thing then,
sometimes I wish I’d paid more

Back then there were
radioactive isotopic
lysergic heat flashes and
the dawn of time; I kept my head down,

I left a secret in the palm of your hand,
a burning time capsule–
a holy revolver–
fired into eternity,

Tomorrow you were shifting
dust on dreary plains
spreading our sigil across time

and I am always the liar,
typing and achieving nothing,
leaving the window closed
behind me,
playing make believe.


About the author:

Tom Pescatore grew up outside Philadelphia dreaming of the endless road ahead, carrying the idea of the fabled West in his heart. He maintains a poetry blog at
His work has been published in literary magazines both nationally and internationally but he’d rather have them carved on the Walt Whitman bridge or on the sidewalks of Philadelphia’s old Skid Row.


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