Harvest the money you left in other pockets
With the callouses barely newborn to this stubborn life.
Someone stole the twinkle in your eye
While you stared longinly into forever's soft skin
And things never seemed quite normal again;
They seemed, somehow, leaked out
Like the lights melting behind me into the darkness
As I drive away from the house
Wondering how I came to feel this way:
The distance can't be kept in egg cartons,
Though it breaks as easily, or in baskets
On somebody's cold winter porch.
It's all ending the way it began -
Silence in a well-lighted room,
Dreaming about growing old,
And that shunted feeling
That accompanies me up the stairs at night,
Soft steps on the carpet, into the bed
That doesn't lead to tomorrow.
So much for life walking
Barefoot in the autumn grass.
Fields like Elysium are starving
Only a penny in the pocket
Emptying onto the dusty street,
As Zeus becomes an old and lonely man
Stepping through winter.
The walking I discovered, misfortuned,
Becomes like a path,
Like all paths that seem to flow now,
Singing mockery into opera spectacles,
And I am just the left-overs
Of something significant
Crawling for sunlight in the rain.