Submitted by Eve Dobbins
Laying waste to our dreams
We shoot our fears while we wait scared
Scared watching Billy goats parading shakily down the mountain
The butterflies sweep the curve
Sauntering into the garden
And enjoying the sunlight
Streaming shakily in the corner of our eye.
Our eye registers the shaky
Non stream of reality
Like the black and white old photo
My mother kept in her drawer
Of the last known sighting of her father
Before he left New York City
And rolled the dice again in Long Island
With the pipe shirking out of the corner of his mouth and a
Sardonic arm posing in front of the camera as if to tell
Catch me if you can
And it never did.
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Photo credit: Employment Agency- Isaac Soyer