Friday 4/12/2024 11:43:00 PM

 time travels through us.
a silent thief.

wearing us as well
as we are worn by it. 

our steps are shallow.
though the terrain is deep. 

choice flinches as we fiddle
with its decaying mask. 

the houses are dark.
the windows all locked.

we are still strangers in this land.
though we've spent all of our lives being lost. 

the tortoise suddenly pauses. 
wondering after the hare. 

scorned by the economy of why. 

the race shrugs its shoulders. 
as the finish line laughs. 

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2024. All Rights Reserved.