Where tedium and suddenness
intersect, take a left.
Should the soft hem of a woman’s dress
and the river’s heartless sluicing fuse,
undress. Where dreams are few, will
the ceiling blue. Deeply blessed
or bereft, assume the worst
where endless talk and wisdom loom.
Say nothing cheap of magnitude
or youth, that planet strewn
with the guided dumb, and the guided dead.
Eschew this. Journey true
to your gratitudes and private ends.
Don't ask directions of me, my friend.
(appearing in the current issue of Smartish Pace)