A Quiet Glide

The hard part about
Getting old
Is watching
The whole world
Gray along.
The ground limps.
The sky
Shares a lost thought
In the glint on a wave.
Teachers and preachers
Loose teeth with the moon.
They break
With cragged rock
Stretching for a violent sea.
Brown polka dots
Scare children
Who sleep to wake
And wear them.
Can we see with aging eyes
We take a quiet glide
Around a vibrant sun
That too will bloat and burst?
On a canvas of mass,
A clockwork
of light and heat,
Slowly dying,
Your eyes lose heart.
Your girl’s breath labors.
I follow you.
Stuck in a groove
Circling a star.



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