Early Deserter
1 min readFeb 8, 2017
I’m spinning,
sucking in my breath and trying to stand formal.
Smiling through stretched jaws.Gazing at youth, younger and more vital.
Their ease and eagerness to stand and solicit,
striking conversions like matchsticks.I cannot live in the moment like they do,
or else live with an understanding
of the moment’s worth.I can only live with one arm
stretched from the rail of my existence,
discomforting from the reach.Cynicism and fatigue ease my joints back in.
As I collapse back into my track, I feel
both grateful and disappointed.And I think of the starlets in their fiery coven,
and in my exile covet them,
and in my envy despise them.
