Uphill Weeds

There is trust in love

a cold street of desire

and one we take

minute by minute

second by second

to experience the hours,

but then it’s gone

and at the same time

it isn’t–

the street’s always been

as my steps have always been,

for the love of moss grows

and stretches over time–

I wonder

if the windows are listening

in this windowless world

and if the tallest grass

will conquer our dreams–

Maybe tomorrow will be better

but what if it isn’t?

If tomorrow isn’t better

maybe today will be better

but what if it isn’t?

We ask ourselves

the wrong questions,

we give ourselves

the wrong answers,

and while we’re busy

making maps of our lives

the street has always been

cold as it warm

and low as it is high.

 

 

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