Past the half century
Holding
home-made coffee and sandwiches for lunch
There was supposed to be more to life than this
And I suppose there is
Hiding
in the cracks and dark corners
But my flashlight is out of batteries
My senses acknowledge the change in air pressure
Again
Again
Again
The
coming season
Earlier and earlier each year
We shall reach a perpetual autumn in no time
The sun hanging there harmless
With no memory of the good it once did
And I am of late, no support
Vicious and uncertain
A stray dog trembling in the rain
I am no human being
Not today
Nor yesterday
And the smallest elements of ourselves
Lay in wait for one eye to close even momentarily
Before clawing their way to the surface
When the knife edge is old news
And the third eye remains closed
You burn your hand and
Slam
your bones down onto cement
No regrets
Maybe
Maybe not
I am not predictable
Trustworthy
Or blessed with foresight
Maybe
it’s time to stop all this
False honesty
Hold my breath
Learn how to ride a horse
Or become an assassin
Or play guitar
Something that actually
Matters.