I'm being
eight tracked into the spooled tape,
rewound,
it's too late,
I'm going in.
Circumspect would more than likely press eject
but I have never been perfect
and so I slowly wind.

As the days go on
I find I get along but wonder why
so many things go wrong
when all I do
is right.

Perhaps
the light I see is bent along
the eight track
symphony
and I
will be
perpetually moving
in
the dark.