dismounting the last train
to walk the secret paths of memory
and longing,
turning in circles around
the real issue,
which is forgetting.
you are never coming back -
i know that now,
but your replacements are just pretenders
poor imitators and pointed reminders.and the moon will supervise the exorcism
as i laugh with the junkies and cry with the
saints when i know it should
be the other way round,
but it’s like walking up a really steep hill, or a
dingo, all i want is to be wild at heart.
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