Tuesday, October 13, 2015


It seems as though things will go
where things will go where they want to
go. And everything else is out of control.
There's no more shade 'neath the landing,
and the watchman has lost all his keys.
behind me, someone yells, 'Don't let that
door close  -  no one's here to open it.'
I shudder to think what that could mean.
The hospital nearby has an extra landing for
the dead-on-arrival crowd. Something new
they just built, 'to better serve the medical
community.' Huh? When did billboards
start advertising death?
Lest I be seen as a pest or curmudgeon, I'll
rephrase the taunts of my life: I want to be
heard but not seen; I want to have much yet
want little; I want to decide, once and for all,
if any of this was worthwhile. And just now,
before I go, look how that fair  curtain twists 
in the gentle breeze this window affords it.

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