"They only pull, pull us back," to familiar sadness
And unresolvable regret. "Or, maybe," she re-considered
"We only keep the good ones."
Ah, there's the rub,
How to free yourself from self-doubt at the penitential
Fixings bar of mistakes to have made differently.
The decision she is really talking around
Is the Memory Lane Memory Care facility,
How the food is okay and the service much better
Than back in the day
But everything reminds
Of the life that is no more, here at the daily carousel
From which everything sprang.
And now that we know it's not up to us
To hold the akash anymore
Nor to justify to anyone our past
Can we really afford the luxury
Of defunct
Antique shops and demolished store-fronts
That seemed like portals to another age?
Is the rage at how cheap things have become,
How insincere and ill-prepared the next generation
To be condemned are, merely a cover
To hold on to a way of doing things
Like a golf trophy
With six crystals as a crown, as if we ever were
Something besides a feeling eye
That let the world change on a dime
Because each soul required it in their contract,
So that the same scene with a rainbow of playwrights
Fills out the skies like a kaleidoscope
In the now, before
All fears resolve, with the tragic funnel cake of far too many
Over-powdered fairs and spiral potatoes not yet peeled —
The hold of the noble dream,
Of peace when there was none,
Beauty when it seemed provisional,
Love when it was only inside you
Clings in sinking windows
On the craft homes in old town Chapman.
Will we ever see them for the first time?
