There are no instructions
nothing to navigate by
404 error
we’re already in the rabbit hole
and no we are not in Kansas anymore.
I’m actually on a white leather couch
scanning the Atlantic on a scag of land
deep along the sound
beyond velvet dolphin chatter
ribbons of sliced diced sea
crashing directly into shore
low tide low emotion engine on idle
as we glide zoomlessly into oblivion…
Can you hear me?
I think she’s on mute. What?
He’s frozen,
sort of like Napoleon’s rear guard
stumbling out of the Russian steppes
like me fumbling for the mute button.
So where do we go from here
when here is not that certain
when all we know doesn’t matter anymore
since the Now of the New
is to just chill
ride that low wave pointbreak
shoveling a lonely shore
be the bottom of that skimming stone
hitting the water like that first slap
out of the womb
and how we keep skipping along
getting randomly slapped along the way
but we keep getting up
resilient bastards that we are
always ready for the fight
forever winning near the goal
according to some ancient Greek urn
yet that’s what we all want
some recognition for surviving the fight
a small piece of God’s little acre
finding that pot of gold
at the end of the rainbow.
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