from one medium to the next
I’m in a time capsule
in some shape or form
having forgotten
the definition of patience
I unwittingly await
like a still life beneath
a whitewashed canvas
someone must know
where I’ve gone
be it buried
among the acacias
or stowed beneath
a floorboard on the corner
of oak & division streets
I used to walk alone
on land and on water
singing along
to my favorite songs
bouncing off radio towers
eventually terminating
somewhere in the clouds
may two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
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