poetry by j matthew waters

after sending men to the moon

yesterday I didn’t have the time
to work on any mysteries

the ones without any clues
like Seger used to write about

brand new songs coming of age
laying the foundation on

black vinyl & eight track tapes
single cassettes inside shirt pockets

the moon was already conquered
and all the stars resided in California

they’d all come out at night
and we would wish upon them

now fast forward to today
and nothing is what it seems

the world a colder place
bi-polar & increasingly disordered

the new normal more like paranormal
chances of surviving borderline

january two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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