Because maybe you’re like me.
And you’re looking.
For a clue. A connection. A dot to make the picture clear.
And all you find is a grave.
In it buried all the secrets of the past.
Mysteries long forgotten by all but you.
So you sit in the shadow of the looming headstone
And darkly dream of the kisses and bad hair-as and ouchies and reveries
That lie so closely underneath you.
You sit. And you worry that someone will know.
You sit and you worry that someone won’t know.
That you’ll fall in love with a speeding car
And careen into this fresh dirt,
Guarded by lilies and pale green shale.
A meditative garden ponders with you,
Concerned for your fate.
So lay to Rest this quest for a Haven of blood.
You won’t find what you’re looking for.
(J-me Odom)
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