March 27, 2002
An upward climb downhill
Begins my search for something new
Branches of space dividing time
Into neat little packets of nothing
Of everything
I am a plastic bag stuck in a
Tree that doesn’t bend in the wind
Fighting the elements of normal
I try to count the stars
Despite their vague countenance
Elusive behind the stars and stripes
Of the American way
I am a sidewalk that leads
To the street that leads to the
Highway that leads to the beginning
Of something I can’t see or feel
Comprehension multiplied by naïveté
Divided by pursuit can almost equal
A dream secured somewhere
Beyond that sidewalk of picket
Fences and blue sedans
Somewhere where trees dance and
Plastic bags can fly freely across the day
Author’s Note: I wrote this twenty-three years ago. Through the circle of life, this is relevant to me again. Life’s funny that way.
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