another day is lit as the fusion Giant rules.
bums have the Mayan calendar in their trembling hands.

i see preachers are drawing in the sand;
looking for Colonel Travis or Jesus of Nazareth.

i pass kids closing their lemonade stands;
signs read: GONE SOON!, out of Existence.
(never to return)

search for a few years with a lighted candle
composing hope, enlightment, sweat and toil,
dance with Karma and Ignorance: we triple-date.

not finding the cover, i laid the book back down.
maybe the next rider will pick-up where i left-off.

01/08/2011

Posted on 01/08/2011
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