carry on my wayward son
how is the road less traveled
any better than city streets
teeming with possibilities
or so it seems you have gone
in every direction
sometimes at the same time
drunk on wine
and sated from pork and dark
chocolate over the course
of years to come
tiptoeing on the fringes
communication becomes intermittent
incoming messages
noisily unclear
easily dismissed by the flip of a switch
though forward movements
often travel in opposite directions
there is no denying the final
destination will repeat itself
august two thousand fifteen
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