how old are you still, and can't be again because it comes away in shades and shades and a passing to and fro you can keep up but behind in a slow down fashion the kind that makes you remember to much and forget all the same. are you running or just dreaming can't you tell and why don't you now when you are sitting in the cold with warm coffee when you are planning a future, but shouldnt it have happened already? but what is future but past from tomorrow in todays deep furrow making you hungry and sharp and its a time ticking and clicking its way your way through the middle straight and sure round and tricky in its circulation so many places to get lost but found

stuck on post side, tiny angle of balance: not enough.
a dreary dredge through maybe and what if
because what cycles through your thoughts vaporizes in the light.
it runs in odd shapes and sizes, colors unknown
down slides, uphills, slant single slips and tones,
its beautiful but black in the dark,
i can hear the whir it works and clicks in tune,
on the fence, swearing at my impatience,
hoping for another show of endurance maybe
but still it rests while i run, runs while i drift,
I like the light too much...