Member-only story
I walk wooded paths,
See ghosts in homes
Once inhabited by friends,
Then strangers,
Now vacant.
Bourganvila climbs
Fresh paint
Empty driveways
Barren parking spots. . .
Seems I should have more room for love
After all this loss, but somehow there is less. . .
Or maybe the love I have is more focused
Selective, deliberate, laserlike
Focused on a fixed point
As the world swirls about
My narrow field of view
I have no object permanence
This here, this now,
Is all existence
This ground
This sky
This exclamation point,
This!
I will not conclude the passing year with the pointed period,
I am. To be continued.
An ellipsis bridges the gap between here and what comes next. . .
I am. . .to be continued. . .
Is not the question mark more honest?
I am? To be continued?
Better still, the exclamation mark, punctuation of triumph,
Declaration of survival!
I am! To be continued!
