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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