Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

The last few thoughts of the year

Soft tendrils of faith stealing my vision as I cling to hope in a dingy diner. Niece seated across from me, we embrace the glowing silence and feed each other thought from the back of our heads. She gets up to use the bathroom, and I am no longer a responsible adult; I am special ed. I am no more found than I am lost, blindly grasping for a leg of truth as I hobble around looking for safety. When she returns, I can begod again. We exchange a few words and listen to the sounds of a closing diner. In ten years, this scene will have been swallowed by our forgetful minds. In ten years, we will be the same. In ten years, we will be different.

December 27, 2008


Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
The last few thoughts of the year

315,147 Poems Read