Don't look in the rear view.
It's there, in front of the windshield,
That looks to the immediate future.
I sit between the two,
With the past in the mirror,
And the simultaneous future
Over my hood,
And my wheels spin,
I'm moving.
Trees and people jostle
From front to back, continuously.
Road signs are a blur
As the air pushes the world aside
Like lace curtains,
Like love,
Enduring through unintended consequences.
A simple gesture,
A mustard seed,
Growing.
Like crystals, connecting,
Dissipating into one.

I have stashed my Glenfiddich
And Marlboros
In the basement cupboard,
While settling in,
At Ground Zero.

You know what I don't hear
That I heard when I was young;
It'll all be over soon.
Sooner than you think.
I heard the doctor say that,
And the pacings of
The Presiding Proctor
Raise tensions in the room.
Then someone says, It's good for you.
But I'm not holding the spoon.

This too shall pass,
The same sun will rise,
The rain falls evenly
On both our sides.

I don't believe in six of one
Or half dozen of the other;
Or the other side of the same coin.
Seldom do we get what we deserve.
I have yet to witness the last
Going first or vice versa.
Maybe there are lasers in space
And brain worms,
Black is not white,
White is not black.
Words are friends.
Fear not,
For they are with us always.

I'm not a somebody
You would know.
I'm a nobody, really.
And, as a nobody,
I don't win or lose,
Cause nobody does a **** thing.
I didn't arrive or leave,
Thus nobody is here.
Nobody says anything.
Nobody was accused, so,
Nobody admits to the act.
Nobody was saved.
Nobody deserved it more,
Or less.
Nobody spoke up,
Yet nobody would shut up,
So, nobody was chosen.
Nobody wants to go,
Yet nobody desires to stay.
Nobody was blamed,
And nobody got the credit.
And,
While it's common knowledge
That everybody is born,
We would be wise to remember,
Nobody gets out alive.

The omnipotent
Doesn’t lead seminars.
The Universe is real.
Believe.

We can't know them
By their religion.
Too much hypocrisy.

We can't know them
By politics.  
It's ever-changing... or not.

We can't know them
By country.
Zillions emigrate and immigrate.

We can't know them
By their clothes.
Emperor or not.

We can't know them
By their words.
Too many equivicators.

We can't know them
By their jobs.
At home or away.

We can't know them
By their family.
Nuclear or extended.

We can't know them
By their deeds.
They say one thing, and do another.

But look to  the roadside.
In the ditches.
By the curb.
In the bins.

Ye shall know them by their garbage.

Many times in my past,
My take on life
Was a puzzling grasp
Of truths and lies.

In my mind,
In my heart,
I thought I was middling smart.
That's what I've depended on,
Yet I was phished by the con.

It comes from the side
Of your weakest eye,
While you think you're helping
This other guy.

The hit is done with such aplomb.
That's the beauty of the con.

I'm still as smart as I thought I was,
But wiser now,
Just because,
I was the victim of a scam.
With reticence now,
I'm the lesser man.

He was slick;
I was tricked
When I let my guard slip
By a con's phishing trip.
But never again.
I promise this.