Food For Thought

Beneath the streetlights and the moon,

I sit with the tune of day.

Am hit by the way in which it turns.

Soon, dawn pulls up, in a pink Cadillac,

inked with the stain of rusting schemes,

the strain of bearing down on dreams…

catching up on time and picking up the slack.

Dragging monolithic hopes

across the bridge of metal toothpicks,

scoring lifescapes…

Making change the greatest escape.

What to stick to?

Blinking back denial?

Slinking by surprise?

..And what to pick…

You?

Do you have a reason for the skies?

afrow