I'm not ready for whatever it is that's going to happen now. This leaves even less time for what will happen next. It is the sense of knowing that ushers age. The fruit of the tree of the eden indeed. It is the loss first of naiveté and then of denial. After those two balloons have popped, the pirouettes of years come dancing in.
I went for a different ride today. Arriving at the top of the hill that used to be the turnaround point of my old route, the hill following now angled downwards, the one that daily broke and remade my heart when it was always against me.
I was able to coast back, as if on wine.
For five years, this has been the battle. The veins across my body tensed with Thomas' rage.
To cheat the system - a backdoor left open - the unexpected, about to be.
Pray, on some little bank left lying out in reach.
Oh, to be a robber with one more moon.