A Maze of Days

These were days when falling down was impossible. When we stumbled through patches of oil and salt, searching for ports where our dimes would be accepted. An epoch of Viagra and other distasteful aides. A future imagined which would change all preconceived notions of wood and of benches. No longer for small towns and ranches and farms from Korea to Mexico to Texas. These were not the presents we had all around us. We tripped pleasantly professionally together around barriers and skipped the portions we could not rearrange to meet their expectations. Somehow there was a unity in remaining standing. Somehow as we waved goodbye through steaming glass and barbecue shacks, a way forward had already been found.

2 comentarios:

stalina dijo...

...! (Ditto.) Gracias por tus palabras.

jp dijo...

A tí, por haberlo leído.