Rocks

I cannot be a victim of an unnamed crime.
Spent the day mourning the obliterated star of my youth
Sat on my opus like an old man
Used the word opus not quite ironically.
I don’t have a word for this, I said at 33.
Flaunted my bad vocabulary. Called things rad.
Nearly drowned in a sea of memories with not a word to save me.
Pondered the shattered mirror
Practiced throwing rocks

The Bridge
We are two cells bumping blindly against one another in the body of God.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *