Evening Poem

Abed, window open breeze maybe storm

would be nice, news was bad today, many

reminders of ephemeral being wind wafting

over old naked wrinkled skin, scars on my 

hands like runes or ancient cave man wall

markings at least a forensic coffee table tale 

to be told, an image for a book on Homosap.

Wind and skin…give me some skin an ancient 

hipster greeting…I’m giving the skin off my back,

the skin of my teeth, to everyone always, but, like

the bloody body at the side of the road, we don’t 

want to look because it’s too gory and familiar…

we’d rather be amused by entertainment but just

numbly don’t get there either, but I’m not 

discouraged because there’s always eternity which

I will wake up from tomorrow for the days I have

left until I go there for good until I wake up again 

one day like I did when I was born.