Moving On

Here we are
Inside this car
En route to nowhere,
Or maybe Mayfair.

Wildly wishing
This trip was dishing
Hopeful promise
To a Doubting Thomas.

Still, we're apostles
In hot pursuit
Of a usual hustle,
Emotional loot and baggage.

Not counting for saggage
From years of crisscrossing
And spirited bossing
Of angels who care to dine

On affected wine.
The kind that you wish was good
But never really stood
The test of time and patience.

Unlike loquacious
Nurses who raised us.
So now we stew in our own juices.
Chewing moistened truths and ruses.

Disillusioned liars,
Always setting fires
To be put out
By simple gestures.

We’re lonely loons in estuaries,
Waterlogged apothecaries
Mixing tinctures from beyond
The reedy confines of this pond.

We’ve sat here too long.
Let’s hope we’re strong
Enough to get up
And get on.

Say hi to your Mom.


9/20/20