Does foggy make your feet hurt 

Do our minds walk in sync

Further down 

In some backcountry

At the pool of belief and blink

working so hard to see our reflections, 

blinded by yesterday’s bad habit

and tomorrow’s bills. 

Unable to retain our own youth or truth. 

We reel in a mound of rat feces and a longing for things.

 Floundering in the past, for one last grasp of reality. 

Before the pill takes effect.

The foot wins because beauty 

must defer to age.  

And denial reigns

I must be mistaken

You don’t leap

Never did

I didn’t catch 

Was too busy

I reread your implicit

Let’s not revisit this     again.

So, the twilight continues. 

And I’ve grown lower

  and hopeless. 

Slower to the call.

 C. S. DeDona  7-19-22

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