Sunday, May 27

The Ouroboros Project #15 - The Gap

{Some poems are better left unexplained I guess}

My word,
I had one, a while back.
Evidently, I need a new one.
What happened though,
where’d she go?
An endless walk.
On a road.
Where does / that road go?
I see this, kind of, tired brown figure, a man.
Soft, worn shoes pad gently, kitten like, on the dusty welcoming road.
It meanders through the mountains, I’d say, yeah it’s dusty.
Right through some towering sierra of dreams.
Did I say welcoming?
He has a stick with polka-dot bundle slung over his shoulder,
unlit cigarette in mouth,
lips parched from the Chinese sun or cold wind or something, does it matter?
Not in this vacuity;
Oh, wait, that’s the future, maybe.
Is it me though?
Is it my stubble walking hand in hand with those parched lips?
Oh, he is thirsty,
As he walks,
into that, oh yeah, vacuity.

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