this is my letter to the world
scrawled on the back of a napkin
illegible even to myself.
this is mid-life where nothing makes sense
and the coherency and logic of dreams evaporate
like the glistening tears on your cheeks that I swore
I saw a moment ago
and the world has since traveled some thousand
miles but the storm is still clinging to the hillside,
I can hear the thunder approaching,
the lightning will deliver a response
rapid fire and staccato, so fast as to be illegible
to these middle-aged eyes, even reading
glasses will never decipher the reply.
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