calling it a night

12/9/05

apparently, in my present state
the gift (subjective, mind) of wordsmithing
has sprouted feet and scampered away
without me knowing!
the spirits by which I’ve become so mellow
have shrouded my senses and
it’s fucking run astray again, like the yellow
warmth of the summer

and lacking the aptitude for effective
expression of my inner journeys
I’m stuck merely milling about inside
my head again, wondering if this happened,
or if that would have come to pass,
if she’d have me in a perfect way,
or if, in just one sway
I’d take it all away
and never see her again
if I’d begin afresh with a life anew
different me in a different place
with new adventures to season
the bland flavor of this lack of reason
my quiet evening tainted with noisy children playing
in the snow