if i ever came close
to belonging, this
must be the spot.
the place where
failures and friends collect
like the white cloudy residue on the bank
of a river, stuck, wanting
to escape, giving anything to flow
again down life's fast and
unforgiving current, being endlessly
turned and turned in one spot,
moving
but stuck.
accumulating next to
your white filmy comrads
who also got caught
in the whirlpool trap
going nowhere.
going home.