Saturday, May 5, 2012
competition
I might even chance to stand on your back, for a lift,
I wish my conscience could shirk the endless streaming seeds,
inside my head, your breath, so windy, inspired.
But, no, I am not who you once were I am forever me.
but you don't remember, even though you were there.
I see a wrinkle in the corner of each eye,
for every smile, a wrinkle in your neck for each nod,
a wrinkle in your toes for each step ahead. And at times
it seems that is all that separates us, a toe.
What is competition? Should we compare notes? Stains
in our teeth? lumps in our flesh? woes in our head?
Should we compare pricks, in our hearts, a pissing contest
of damages.
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