Sunday, May 9, 2010

Farewell At A Virtual Pier In Omaha

The hour is nearly up,
As sunshine heralds farewell's setting
Old-man Time has won the betting
How much I've lost is still unknown
Unfocused in retrospect or sentiment,
It waits to be discovered missing.

No ribbons from a parting ship
Can hope to sway its course
And, alone on the pier, I hold the ragged ends
As I turn to the city behind me...
Static, neurotic, fossil fuels and trends,
Housing its video-saturated souls
In gated suburban holes.

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