Dust

I like to dance with what’s impossible
but she moves in ways that make it hard
to focus on almost anything but her.
I’ve spent way too many summers in the wake
of what I wished was still the winter
but it ends when it ends like always
and the whole world just pretends
there’s nothing happening.
It’s all so fragile like a glass frog
on a glass desk serving no purpose
but to look like something we’ve long since
left behind us but glance back at
when we can’t help but remember.
I sometimes think about how many
quarters will outlive me changing hands
between the rubber bands of bills
that pay for kills.
Give me time to think out on this bench swing
by the pond out in the park that’s still
suspended by those rusted chains
that get worse almost every time it rains.
I won’t forget about you,
wherever you are,
in this dust bowl we call a galaxy
and if you think of me that’s fine,
but if you don’t I understand
there isn’t time.

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