justwrite 26 january

and then I was turning the pages I was wandering through stages aging rapidly and tearing up the sheets wondering if discretion is the better part of valor wondering if the shower could be hotter if the wood could been rottener we are living in different centuries at the same time yours and mine and the miscalculated rhyme the schemes that seem to make more sense than tension in the wires firing themselves from cannons from scandalous trust form rusty barbedwire from a spire on a church and a friend in the lurch all calculating to add up different equations with various stations not of the cross or of the sort where fires are doused but I’ve loused up plenty of other deals before getting to this feel-good arrangement and if that means further estrangement from long-term meaning then it’s seemingly going to go in that sort of flow from here on out and it’s a doubt I’m willing to play but not to pay out with these no-jingle pockets clocked like racecars turning left and left with the drivers playing tetris on their phones calling home and getting left alone in the pit stop whirlwinds pretending to swim with the current but still wondering not worrying what all the hurrying is for and where the getting to will get anyone through the end is near the fear is clear and we are all apart from here on out check your bags and ride that nag all the way through to suspicion and listen to yourself to others to sisters and brothers because who knows and the way this story goes your guess is as good as mine finding itself buried in a fine pine box with a long time for looking at the lid