Tuesday, January 19, 2016


It's here
a new Fiesta again
like waking when I was ten
walking outside to oak trees
fresh grassy air so present
there was no other time
at that time.

No future now that I'm old,
ten again, walking out onto 
the dirt and the street, another
now again in the momentary
fiesta, vendors setting up tents,
air perfumed with sweat and
lack of pretense, seeing and
nodding to each other as if 
we were never ever anywhere 
else. Simple as it could be...
simple as it was before caught
in the trap of believing in a 
future that never could be but
suddenly rushing forward for
years to some idea of destination
caught up in the human waterfall
of shouldn't we, not knowing what
we had forgotten in the swirl of 
events that seemed like a good 
idea at the time, but led to nothing
more than missing the point of why
we were there in the first place,
where we first were when we did
smell the air. felt the space, saw
what was here, when we were alive
for the first time. 

Back to that, the same as when 
I left it, and where have I been all 
this time? In someone else's dream?
It couldn't have been mine. 


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