near misses
turn out to be just---
and sometimes the collision courses we dream for ourselves
like the self-fulfilling prophecy I had premonitions about
and out of this stratosphere--
Until I was all the way up here with arms and hands out of reach
And here, too. With a diadem I never asked for
And here.
And here.
And he put me up here.
He was so good about all of this.
You should be better. No one know where our journey will lead us!!!
ReplyDeleteThe older we get the more alive we feel. This poem feels more hopeless than that ideal but when you look at the grand spectrum and longevity of life, it feels short, but it is also long. There is more always more time than we think; and in some sad cases, less. Who was so good, and what does "good" mean here?
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