Refuge to Many Places

…a friend…
I was about 
to open that door
when I got the phone call. 

I don’t remember anything before that
and I’ve never asked for help since. 

My head started to tic 
like a jumping bean, 
like a glitchy video,
like a gull-durned dirty bomb ’bout to go.

I thought first to protect the kids.
The kids said, “We don’t share.”
I said, “Are you invincible?” 
The kids said, “Bro, go away and let us play.” 

Then I took to the elders. 
I talked with them of luck and free will. 
They fed me sweet breads iced with cinnamon and fate.
“These are brief times, mostly happy, swirling in mystery…”

…a friend…

Afterwards, I could say goodbye without feeling my everything churning and grinding unto itself and onto the floor and out of the door and into the street to await a thing without attention or intention.

I imagine this story continues long after we go home for the night. 

Refuge to Many Places

4 thoughts on “Refuge to Many Places

      1. jdoublep says:

        Good commenter, you do right your hands just such,
        Which bookwormedly devotion shows in this, For books have pages that readers’ fingers do touch,
        As leaf by leaf flows lusty reader’s kiss.

        Like

Sock it to me

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