georgia
nothing is real
not even the exception to the rule
to which you have seemed
to execute to perfection
I’ve chased down
many a dream with no end
only to pick things back up
exactly where you left them
you leap from tree to
tree with relative ease
repeating in my mind like a
hand-made picture show
I toss it aside
carefully behind a bush
thinking there’s a good chance
I want to retrieve it
I always tell myself
you should have told me
to stop swinging for the fences
a long long time ago
june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved






If nothing is real, then why the reel?
I really don’t know. I think the reel is toast.