down the corridor of misconceptions
we travel daily with our heads held
firmly between our hands as if getting
ready to present an offering... awake
and alert with walk with distinction
bowing occasionally to the lords and
ladies in the audience whose attendance
was required by royal decree... knights
on dark horse prance alongside hoping
defecation will wait, despite being
followed by pawns with shovels...
light enters the hallway from above
the sky opens up its clouds and tears
begin to fall, wetting the participants,
stars zoom by unabashedly, candles
blow in the wind bit remain lit and
the white waiters walk among the
crowd offering free diluted wine...
our daily promenade is hardly ever
interrupted but when it is, always a
half-assed reason for it justification.
March 11, 2024
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