poetry by j matthew waters

self-imposed exile

I was there to witness it all
and now after all these years
it’s becoming unrepressed
finding myself an accessory
after the fact

I’m too old to be on the run
but on the run I am
retracing steps and piecing
back together high crimes
and misdemeanors

statute of limitations aside
the talk on the street
sounds anything but familiar
as if I had just stepped off
the last train to mexico

september two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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