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To Touch Almost a Branch

Time is a cluster
of memories grouped together
in our minds
and stored
in the warehouse we have there.
these memories are animated only after we search
for their substances
and rediscover them,
in the
faces of forgotten friends.
these friends are not what they were
and that may disappoint us.
Their paths may have led them
under the dark clouds
of a stormy sky
and sent their senses
to a barren desert.
the old friends are no different,
they disappoint us.
They have stayed stagnant
and their sorry song
is a mere monotone.
If you ask them why they’ve remained the same,
they’d throw some obtuse argument
at you about how they’re
or fatter
or aged.
Forget it!
You couldn’t explain it
to them if you tried.
Their opaque
minds are made up and the more
you talk to them,
the less they listen.
you find that some
of the old people have changed,
but they’ve pulled the
stars out of the sky
and brightened up their own lives and,
brightened up
the world
for other people,
The old
rules that guided them are dead
and new boundaries become beautiful
hands holding their hands
and leading them over shining,
golden gardens of innovation.
You think to yourself that this
is more like you,
always searching for the sunlight
that brightens the path to the unknown.

COPYRIGHT 2000 by Michael Bonanno
LOC Reg. #TXu 934-647

Reproduction of “To
Touch Almost a Branch” or
any part therein without
the express written consent
of Michael Bonanno, is
prohibited, except in cases
of “fair use”.

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                                                                                                                               (and some other assorted foolish verses)