I think that most
People do believe that
It’s their duty to
Point out your imperfections
Because it is easier
Than facing their own
It seems that self
Truth is hardest to
Hear the bitterest of
Bitter pills to swallow
They lodge back in
Their throats and spew
It back on others
And there in the
Far I saw a
Yellow window glowing where
The road does stop
Behind me darkness swallowed
Night but up ahead
That lamp whispered welcome
Home though this home
Was no home of
Mine but an inn
I found comfort there
Amongst strangers who soon
Became friends in the
Thicket a new home faraway
From my familiar one
I imagine that my
Heart is like a
Bus filled with tourists
On their way to
The Vatican each with
It’s own purpose many
To be splendidly wowed
Others for the gelato
A few for blessings
Each elbowing the others
For room some even
Saying mama mia as
They’re pressed like garlic
So many so packed
Believing that there’s something
There at the end
Love has a bitter
Aftertaste it lingers and
Like a dog that’s
Just eaten a bug
I spit and wipe
And wretch and gargle
And swish and finally
After the circus has
Left town I can
Once maybe cautiously taste
Love again but with
One eye closed obviously
Stuck in the middle
Between hither and nigh
Rock and hard place
The present and past
Squeezed in vices jaws
You simply can’t breathe
There’s that thing over
There that once was
Sweet comfortable and succulent
But has now soured
And this thing here
Plump exciting and promising
Cautious teasing and playful
Turning away from one
And towards the other
Causes a hearts thunderstorm
Cold and warm fronts
Colliding and me the
Kansas town hunkering down
Hoping for the best
