Ravaged paven street, Haven road is like a pool of saturated memories too full to reflect. They stick out jaggedly like sharp pointed glass, never dulling to the time drawn sand that rubs everything else so harsh. "Leave, leave, leave!" They warn me. "Forget, forget, forget!" I add.
So I left the place I never really lived.
So I left for volatile Vermont. But hope is a facade; in partial Vermont the loneliness hunted me down; I never knew I was on the run.
And then, cruelly, the cliche of my cousin's cliche high school graduation with it's poorly proper and yet mysteriously potent speaker stung me. A nauseating vapor of existential reality, his listless memory told me to "fail better."
Well, alright.
No comments:
Post a Comment