Things I choose to share

Maybe is a cop out

The cold February California air hit my sober lungs and I knew
It was strange how life would dim and reality would ebb
The days inched along lazily or streaked by like a bottle rocket
It was like a little glimpse into insanity
We all loved it
We’d spend days fantasizing and romanticizing our lives away
Traveling with our words and feeling what we read
It was good and our ambitions seemed unabated
Our lives slugged on only briefly inhibited
Or so it seemed
The breath we pulled into our lives became more and more limited
Our experiences became constricted
Like a pipe choked with resin
Dirty black particulate tar
And he smoked it like a junky
He sat on many important eves
Work to be done
Noses to be put to the grind stone
And he burnt the midnight hash oil
Maybe he didn’t have a problem and maybe he just changed direction
Maybe his goals and dreams that had been previously agendicized didn’t sit well with him anymore
Maybe he was more at home in a cloud of smoke, words, and notes than he was in a world of dollars and interest rates
Risk and return
Maybe he finally applied what he learned
Stopped taking his life and his talent for granted
Him and his maybes
Cause right now he’s stuck in between
Like a sinner in limbo
It’s ok he can’t stay on the fence for long
It doesn’t look too comfortable