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
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