It was a fortune, a random luck of the draw
fleeing one of those Chinese cookies
smashed at my feet, with bits and pieces and crumbs
forming the foundation of a directive, a sign:
“Find a peaceful place where you
can make plans for the future” it said.
Without pause, with an image of you
I wondered, not quite out loud,
“Are you my peaceful place?”
What future beyond these stolen moments
can fairly be made, it’s diffuse glow
flawed and accused and alleged?
- not as a thief who feels a shame or remorse,
nor the unfaithful with secrets to keep -
but like the forewarned fool ignorant of caution,
unencumbered with discernment or assessment of clues,
incapable of restraint from impractical jabber
even in sight of losing his head.
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