There are times I want to tell you what you want.

That life’s the knot that keeps the boat upon the shore.

And who am I to deny you?

We share a tender untruth.

There are times I want to tell you what I want.

Perhaps a life untied resides in minds and sighs

of others? Helpless answer.

A tear a cry for candor.

Given that we’re given such a slender light

and sing at fifty plus two million microhertz.

We could reduce our fractions

and try to gain some traction.

A lonesome and a foreign form of friction

with a cadence that spans and pans for miles.

Denial that is dutifully

overclocking futilely.

And in the end if you intend to put this off,

the concept that the shapes of vessel’s wakes

are wings of doves.

Echoed loves.

Your suffering, this reckoning approaches.

Folks we know get shuffled off in coffers.

Your point of view

will shatter you.

Wake