Not Blame Your Pleasure

bike

Not Blame Your Pleasure

Because vision limits options, I close my eyes.

Becoming urges patience.

The morning after I didn’t die, I took breakfast in bed.

Arrival stamps the difference between waiting and choice.

Expectation, too, extends its squeeze, rendering sleep impossible.

I ride the bike and go nowhere, or walk steadily, covering the same ground.

Which will claim me first? An occlusion, gravity or unchecked growth?

Anticipation replaces one sigh with another: I have three falls from two roofs.

A friend has named me executor of his estate, and now the race is on.

The path to the void seems straight only near its end.

My ashes will one day soil someone’s morning.

ladder

26 thoughts on “Not Blame Your Pleasure

  1. What a joy, this poem! Every line, so complete in itself. My 2 favourites: “I ride the bike and go nowhere…” and the ending, which really made me smile – clever, sad, funny all at once. Your poems are like gourmet treats, Robert!

    Liked by 1 person

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