A questionable son
the one
who chose auto repair
and serial monogamy
finds the golden road
to Washington, D.C. respectability
What does his father do?
He buys him a briefcase
And everything followed
and flowed
from that mineral moment
A career
a wife, in time
a briefcase never used
but full of good wishes
murmurs
and marching orders
The road ahead
seemed wide open
stretching west
into a golden glow
and open it was
purged of hindrance
by the workings of time
So here am I
that golden road
now behind me
Life seems a sand castle
on a castle of sand
with the tide pouring in
It is that last ember
glowing as the fire
goes dark
Tomorrow and tomorrow
beckon from a fabled future
they bid me adieu
I can smell the scent
of decay in this
warm summer's wind
kiss the sweetness of it
on my lips
I do not part willingly
hold out my hand
for every shred of
summer's light
But at the end of it
pack my poor bag
and make a crow's march
home
where I belong