Smitten :: prev :: next :: I want to mount my Bianchi Ride out Aden Road to 28 Turn South And go I see mountains and trees Birds, cars, trucks Charlottesville, Lynchburg, Danville Keep riding Through the moon-lit night And the break of dawn No food, no water Ride until my legs shake My muscles cramp And I fall And scrape the pavement Pea gravel stuck to my knees Lie there Until the dew soaks my bones And my questions are answered Longing for simplicity Unity, Peace, Liberty, Freedom From within these beige coloured boxes Longing for sticks and stones For bows and arrows For fish and fires For something, something To disprove solipsism I know the maxims of pop-psychology: Hold everything with an open hand Be contented first with who you are Don't base your happiness on others A permanent solution to a temporary problem But, truly, is it temporary For every day I say This, too, shall pass This, too, shall pass From hitting many potholes And rough crossings A cat, a squirrel, a opossum (or maybe by design) My mind is out of alignment The toe and camber of my soul pulls hard to the left So I'm constantly fighting the wheel Always tugging to keep it between the lines While the check-engine light flickers But my arms are growing tired And the tires are wearing through I need to find a mechanic who knows what he's doing Because I can't waste my money any longer It's been many, many years since my alignment was true Such a pushover The fallen ones waste no effort "Look, he's up again, right as rain Let's take a break Go give him a spin Twist him up Then we can get back to work" I'm a hungry man A poor man Who's been always asleep Whilst a golden apple is eternally suspended Two inches above my nose If I could only manage to wake up © 2012 (10 april) john r. chase
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