The Truth of the Matter


Maybe I am not sorry at all

The chafe of skin on skin in summer

Light cotton clings to skin as sweat beads

The sun roasts

The clouds float

Days pass slowly

Synapses trundle electrical currents

From left lobe to right then back again

Thoughts on an infinite loop

Become Archimedes Screw

My downward spiral

Pinning me to your specimen board

All my colors on display

Stacks of calendars mark passing days

Irretrievable moments of my being

Gone in a blink

Seconds wasted pondering years gone by

Chances and choices stolen and made

Circumference and tethering I did not get far

And yet I traveled the world

I know Sycamore from Beech

Klein Blue versus Sky

Agamemnon to Arthur

The road to Ithaca and Route 66

The answer to Azúcar as tin floats over the Amazon

Si y crema por favor

I enjoy my coffee sweet and mellow

There is too much bitterness in this world

I ask for forgiveness, life is easier that way


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