Route
For many years life won’t
let you in, which will only
make you think
more of it. Even time
will pass on. Time will grow
thin like a ponytail. You’ll take buses
to trains to planes.
You’ll be disappointed
it was such a short
and comfortable ride.
You’ll see people die and wonder
how you could possibly live
enough to make up for it.
You can’t.
In darkness, the sky will
become the hide
of some gargantuan
mammal. Possibly a parent.
Heed this: Admire the details
on buildings. Bask in material
triumphs. Death will be there.
Ignore it for now.
| Lizzie Harris |
|
