Well, Daniel said, youze moving on soon:

Some clad and laden soul is coming for you,

Don’t worry.

We all have been tagged, colored,

Wearing uniforms with tattoos

We can’t read.

But, someone will read us, will know us,

Where we’ve been, what we’ve done,

Right?

You’s wondering-what?

I can’t hear you – someone’s looking at me –

Just like that, he’s gone, tracking time’s dusty memories

Tucked under his colored tattoo, unnoticed, off to

Someplace else.

How long, till someone overburdened breaks him, too?

 

What textile will he stand on?

What breeze will he experience?

Will he ever pause to rest on a cool, clean

surface for a moment, again?

 

One by one, they march on the lawn,

picking the calvary apart – those noble steeds

Salted from their youth with purpose and pomp.

The beats pressing into the air aren’t of hooves,

But of weary cracked outsides, witnesses of past moves

clanging enthusiastically

Into a future memory.

 

 

 

 

waking thoughts, written 6-6-2014