tents and camels

justam

I miss the innocent days
those days when I didn't know what I know now
didn't know how things can turn on a dime!
and also the way the wind can shift from one day to another
East to West or North to South?
I miss the undivided drive to the light
the picnic in a flowered meadow
somehow these extra people polluted the river
these crowds, seat-fillers, like an army, marching on soft ground
they turned something solid into messy mud
who knows how it happened, really?
but I don't like how these other people stuffed the tent
gave them part of an inch and they took a foot, a yard, a block, and a mile