Archive 03/31/09 - (2)

   

Sunset

                              

 

Strange, curious, bewildering, astonishing, unnerving,

How this last day of March is staying light so long,

Hanging on, as if it had no place to go...

 

Like me, a sad, lonely, innocuous, anonymous, inebriated fool,

Lingering in this bustling café,

Dreading going home, to the solitude of my empty psyche.

 

That I'm frightened of myself, I admit. Why wouldn't I be?

Times get tougher than rough, rougher than tough,

When one staggers toward old age.

 

It's then, at that stage of dissipated, degraded life,

That memories lose their registration, depth of field —

Short-term forgetting coalesces with long-term genealogies,

 

To produce the weirdest montage of fading reminiscences —

And nothing feels real, as you jettison what's left.

Indeed, the past collapses, in raptureless defeat,

 

As if the history of your entire existence were Pompeii,

Succumbing to Vesuvius's raging fury —

A civilization of one paltry man, buried under black ash.

 

Tonight, March's last sunset lingers so eerily long.

Its shafts are lighting a path to the crater of its fiery sky.

Now, I'm climbing, going home.

 

 

                      

 

03/31/09 - (2)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
       

 

 
   
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