after the last of anything, there will be
still one more something; how do i know?
i watched it happen all my life, well,
not all my life; 63 years'll prove my point.

i see most of the faces are hungry; for more:
more food, more drink, more sex and in possession
of an intractable infusion of worth, dignity;
and venture out, in search of meaning. alas.

if reality could be dealt with honestly, balance
would be equal; teeter, totter, left, right. entropy.
so the hunt is on for a familiar face; expectant
glances. all beckoning, "is this seat taken."

i eat life's displeasure with a long-handled
shiny spoon; fine lines exist; find and fine.
when i go to the doctor, will he find something?
or will i be fine? this life and one more.

05/13/2010

Posted on 05/13/2010
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan