one evening the enigma with empathy
another night the light bulb
miserable with its wattage
or in a clear-sky moment
the wise one reflecting on
what it knows it could be
as you remove your shoes
and socks lastly the gold or
silver flick the light switch
and hop in bed do you
dream of yourself
as anything else?
when Gracie rubs her cheek in dried dog poop I can never tell if it’s Christian Dior or some cheap gaudy knock off don’t know whether she’s hoping to attract a handsome senior or trying to turn off th
dug in with fingernails unable to crawl back to my 50’s losing the rear view of my 40’s looking down I see a murky future straight up the dusty crystal of the past 70 will come with a slow slip an
these lips would nibble sunlight if not for chicken pot pies or suckle my good memories but for perfectly ripe avocados I’d drink a fresh morning wind if iced tea or ginger ale weren’t available at le