Monday, February 15, 2010

A night's poem

Approaching the point of
dissolution to find replies
leading in the opposite direction
turn this spiraled quilt to the floor.

My mini-golf scorecard,
crumpled into a ball and shoved
into the pocket of my constrictive,
gray jeans shows above par
performance in selection skills.

Most say to overshoot the goal,
a hole in one, yet results are lacking.
This seems to be a process involving
practice and mental agility, correcting
my aim to achieve a desired outcome.

I wonder if the aim is really off or
if my reactions are telling me the truth.

I say that life is too short to worry
about the next step.  It will arrive
with its own instruction manual
and probably enough unforseen
variables to warrant a fresh look.

I know that my morals flinch at
certain possibilities, something I
try not to judge, but keep awareness
of in the back of my mind.

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