Sunday, October 25, 2020

Much Too Much

Dry leaves 
Scavenged for fuel 
Tiny tracks to mud roads 
That wind down 
To engulf the village 
Into kerosene lamp dark 
That burts open into 
A rod red morning. 
 
Starry nights 
Time zones away from 
Big city lights 
That are a poor substitute. 
 
Hyperlinks that replace thoughts 
Stares that unblinkingly avoid 
The passersby 
The person next door 
And the coffee table mate 
Sitting across the table. 
 
When much is enough 
And much is too much 
Close your eyes and take a deep breath 
Of centering.

 



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