OH I KNOW THEY'RE
Out of time and words and ire.
The tidbits have nothing left to
say. Is that a success, when you
leave them speechless? All their
little words and the common chatter
they always feel they have to bray.
Here's me. In the mirror. Driving away.
I'm on a highway to nowhere, backing
up to the end. There are concrete sheds
on either side of me, each shed with
bins for a different size of rock. That's
how the quarry sells them : truckloads,
by the ton. Boulders to pebbles to course
to fine. Whatever paving-top you've a need,
you'll find. I pass the rocks without looking.
Wanting nothing, why look? Why stop?
Right now, anyway, I'm living the zen life
up here at Tony Bell Manor. There are no
services or amenities of any sort, except
dirt - to sleep on. We're at that stage of
being where none of that should matter,
and we desire nothing anymore, anyway.
Your Lulumon pants are so yesterday.