I came too, but late in life.
working parts are already in chronic chorus refrains.
but now is both out of tune and yet timely.
stories overheard have taken me into an truth-editing style.
careers are now like bus stops, remembered along the way.
for me, forest-for-the-trees became as backstage scenery.
this planetary view of ours, is a rear view mirror shot.
religion is the pomposity of hearsay but haunting.
politics is but puppet shows, gone global interactive.
if you are here to help,
find for me, intimacy at every corner.
face to face poker games with real chips on shoulders.
medical plots not expecting wealth to appease their greed.
take me down the road by the tone of your speech.
find me ‘the where’ of the bed of your dreams.
make language be tears that speak your truth.
I am so tired for meeting anyone I already know.
breath is the elevator, we are all on.
with it, we take the planet up, and then exhale it down.
I came too, but late in my life.
I have memories as if animated shadows lingering.
I don’t know how to love, that now truly expresses me.
but we all ride that train of thought, to get to here . . .