What am I supposed to write
if everything in my soul feels right?
I suppose I could worry about my next
or next
or next
or next next
But what good has that worry ever done me?

I’m bathing in a fall from glory
a fragrant pause before or after the storm
Caught adrift
floating in the sea
Wondering if
and without terror

Follow peace he said,
the other me
And now I’m floating in it
in my dreams
If I’m not too careful.
But what care did care ever give me?

I suppose I could ruminate
about the joys of family,
pleasures of sex,
freedom in hope,
shackles of politics
But I wouldn’t know where to start

No, the truth is, I have much to say
but don’t want to say
I’d rather throw my head back
and drink the rain

Maybe I lose my breath or two
and disappear until tomorrow adieu