Apr 14, 2021
There are so many fading lights
and closing doors–
the end of hour creeps near. This feels close,
as we search for a last surge of energy
and still, I feel content to just be,
despite the pulls, pressure, and pushes
forward
back
with every side seemingly extravagantly
complicated
and still, I’m left to lean back against this stone
alone
and breath and be, and breath and be.
I wrote this while eating dinner, alone. Could you tell? : )
Here’s an odd picture of my legs and oily plate. no brussels sprouts left at dinner nearly brought a tear to my eye.
Backseat Driving by Q is really it.
