Lack of traffic leads to it
In that zone appear
great thoughts and many
ifs and would-bes
Each time with increased
self disgust but also recognition
of it
The laugh is cruel and within
and reminds me of all that
I still won’t do
Until the next ride then
The little boy smears across it
Older hands waving and grappling
But never together or when so
Too strong and vehement
Here and gone and here
The rhythms are very personal
And different and cherished
The tallest aren’t the fairest or the wisest
They belong in separate frames
Only arched ivory borders for them
Something’s amiss
The little boy is too quick and too young
He invites me but I cannot abandon this
If I were empty
or obvious
It would be easier
to float
and hold sway
Your presence
“A perfect day marred with sudden clouds
That streak across and linger
Not long enough for recognition
Coming and departing at will”
Is that what you meant, I ask him
But now his back stoops and eyes dim
The shadow enslaves him for a bit
Leaving him dazed and bitter
While I suppress my smile
Surrounded by those who always
Assure him of his uniqueness
He drifts in his small world
Bereft of care or concern
But when similar bright specks
Of various microcosms converge
His dismay is so apparent
His uniqueness so familiar
That he cowers and returns
A solitary lotus flower
Always beautiful and mighty
Afloat its muddy waters
A True Sentence 