I rolled with the punches
****** up lunch through
fat lips
and
skipped down to the river
to
strip off and swim

the only bully here
is the weir
and I steer well clear
of that.

On a summer day like this
where a thought can
kiss me awake
I
take a break from routine
and hop back to the dream

we
all need the time machine
to remind us of why
to look back and recall,

and now in my Fall
before the curtain comes
down
as the crowd
calls encore
I use the time machine
more
and the more that I
use it
the more I confuse it
with
reality.

It's only me
on the shore
by the sea.

It's
only me counting grains
of sand
that trickle from a liver spot
land
from an outstretched
hand.


What becomes plain to me
is the more that I look
the less
I can see

it could be hereditary.

at least it's quiet here
there is
only the sound
of water
flying over the weir
and
the valves in my heart
squishing
wishing
tragedy hadn't waged a
war on me,
the city picking
fights with me
but not today,

today I lay and
let ghosts rest.