August 24, 2011

not often enough
are we speaking
in reference to afterlife
to the understanding
of our limits on legs
the monster undertow
of tomorrow
is like a camouflaged submarine
barely crawling.
a magnet below us

we laugh and scream
and finger cars
that cut us off
and slow our progress
to another meaningless
meeting of details,
sketches of something
we plan to goddamn make happen.

and every breath taken for granted
until this magic carpet is pulled out from under us
and we awake to the simple ending
ahead of all of us.

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