I can’t say what the truth is
can’t tell you what is mine
or which way I am going
only that I don’t want it to end
even though I say I do
on those days my breath lingers
on the windowpane –
opaqueness on translucency
that’s what makes me realize
I’m materialized
but then it vaporizes as quickly

It’s this tendril of hope that I stretch
out like a girdle
around my middle
and pray
tomorrow will turn into
something
and I fiddle with that thought
a lot
while this goof
d
o
w
n
s
100 proof