no direction
justam
Posts: 21,410
Those days of being intoxicated from the mere fumes of great hope
I remember them
those days seem like distant friends
so far off that the houses look eraser-tip size
transformed or crushed like copper zoo coins
molded new, into something less valuable and fleeting
those days seem so far away
like a line of cars stretching out to the edge of the horizon
with edges implied and
colors merely suggestions and questions
I lived in those seats as they drove past
opened the windows and felt fine
but somehow I'm now just the hanging leaf
caught on a twisted branch until blown down
to then be a silent companion to an old brown lunch bag that
travels in whatever direction the wind carries it
maybe the aimlessness can be called freedom?
I remember them
those days seem like distant friends
so far off that the houses look eraser-tip size
transformed or crushed like copper zoo coins
molded new, into something less valuable and fleeting
those days seem so far away
like a line of cars stretching out to the edge of the horizon
with edges implied and
colors merely suggestions and questions
I lived in those seats as they drove past
opened the windows and felt fine
but somehow I'm now just the hanging leaf
caught on a twisted branch until blown down
to then be a silent companion to an old brown lunch bag that
travels in whatever direction the wind carries it
maybe the aimlessness can be called freedom?
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Post edited by Unknown User on
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Comments
can aimlessness be called freedom?
absolutely
"what a long, strange trip it's been"