Towing the Ladder

I had gathered all the letters, but not found words to suit them yet. Orphaned pieces of the parquet waiting for me to find the pattern.

Don't you think sometimes it's not necessarily easier, but better to just give up. Know when failure is your only chance at success. Instead of always being that caged bird that sings to cover it up.

Two days too early as usual I got the greeting. Same eclipse. Different sun. I wasn't tempted by those rumpled skins. But I felt bad leaving them there. As empty as they'd come to us.

I'd imagined the conversation like bright polish on my bitten nails. Sharp and abrupt as it tried negotiate the schizophrenia of my manicure.

Hello.

Goodbye.

And something inbetween that resembles life.

But only in the way that we keep waiting for what isn't coming. Or listening to what isn't there.

The absent satisfaction in owning the loss of what I've never had.

Towing the ladder from behind as as I look up and see all the places I'll never go.