it is far too late
for me to die
young as real young.
and now I am stuck
in a karaoke town
wondering how many
of our memories
have lied to us.
as the snow falls
and I chew on my thumbs
letting music warm my ear drums,
all I can do is walk
parallel to you
in poetry, bad at best.
after the bookstore
and after the parking lot,
the Uber got lost
and there was an eight-legged
creature on my screen.
like life, I brushed it off,
and directed the driver
where to go.