how to say

predictions appear about to deliver
goods that were never surprising; memories
until now dormant were never dead; they say
if addicts quit their poison
of choice and then later come back

and pick it up they pick up
where they left off as though they’d never
ceased; not saying how much I know
it is true, just that it’s what I’ve heard
about; it could make sense and if

there really is something to it
one might wonder about being in
geographical spots,
such as what one was doing, what
one was like, what one evolved

or descended into in a place
and then they leave the place and no matter
how long they remain apart
from that place if they return
to it and begin to absorb

the atmosphere, no matter
how they changed in the years away
those changes go dormant like the others
did when on journeys of relocation;
the burn of a bourbon does begin to beckon.

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About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
This entry was posted in adventure, geography, poem, poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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