It's a long walk
Trotting clumsily
And late, carrying
My own beration
Until I choose
To let it go.
I'm the only one
Scurrying, muscles
Knotting, a clot
Of office-dressed
Momentum in a sea
Of those disposed
To partying.
And now, side-stepping,
Breath drowning in the
Aftershave scents,
Desperate stares
And cigarettes
Of early Friday
Summer evening,
Weaving my way
Through cleavage
And pecs, loud laughs
And gazes
Paving the way
For the after-dark...
I am smoke.
Or a tributary
With a different
Purpose.
I used to feel
Cursed but I know
I'm just a different
Verse of a song
That was being written
Long before I was conceived
And will echo long
Beyond these bones
Achieving dust.
I am not corruption,
Not rust on a pristine
Sheen, a blemish,
I am free. Not better
Either, just a different
Set of steps,
A counterpoint -
Belated and berated
Syncopation in this
Never-ending dance.
Chance led me
To this place and now,
By everything
That I hold dear,
I'll choose to live
The life that love
Has given me.
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