I feel like I’m losing a good, good friend.
you’re not losing a friend
you are dear
but of those middle-aged verbs
I’m interested in
we’re marching along
i make my declaration
from near empty family home
mother no longer mothering
mate without a mate
asking myself if the blue flame rising
in me is instinct or the want of you
your painful corns
fear of the dentist
patterned nightly call
i reject them all
tarnish of my age
strike out
to traverse a coast
commune with spirit cultures
camp, canoe my misty lake
find clarity
unencumbered.
● ● ●
