Sunday, January 19, 2014

Declaration of Anticipation Nation

Something's gotta give
I imagine that he would always say.
Alone by choice, lonely by habit
Trying to keep the proverbial wolves at bay.

Nothing is written of his past
Only heresy remains as a record
Very few details, plenty of conjecture
Most devised by his own accord.

Rife with myth, bloated by whimsy.
I find him drinking on a wooden stool.
Stoic by nature, abrasive thru determination.
Impatiently waiting for his turn at pool.

His quarters ride the rail, aligned.
The chalk shows disgust.
Talcum fills the air not choked with smoke
Covering your bets is a matter of trust.

Trust that I feel for those who notice when I haven't written in a while.
Trust for someone who notices that you need to talk.
Trust for folks that have read this far, and will continue to read.
Trust that they will understand when they hear the news.