cycle

round and round and round and round

each day the same, slowly racing toward nightfall, slow hour by slow hour, a  snail’s minute

the day like thick molasses or treacle, a numbness, a lethargy

the daily dailiness, dilly, dally, learn, learn, learning

leaning on me

some minutes sweet, some minutes bitter or sour or loud or quiet

its all the same.  to me. not to them. to me,

maybe i can remember in my old age, my dotage

maybe, maybe

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