Poetry - Saturday AM after Friday debauchery

Oars on the waters

Everything that falls

like a beat of a drum

leaves from a tree

- that’s so over done -

oars on the waters

driving 

you in 

or pulling

you out

one after another

closer or further?

you can’t tell 

from where you are.

You can't tell your There.

You can only tell your Here. 

---- 

tossed be the stones

burned be the logs

sticks and leaves 

the newsprint, the impetus

gone be the time 

it arrived like the stars

swooshing in ways that only stars

can swoosh, and tick be gone

so be my thoughts

needling and poking thru

my fabric

then retreat

--- 

If entwined, fingers in mine

we two step to the bridge

For A begets B

and so on we’ll see

skipping and laughing

into this

only pearls gleaming

at the feet of swine?

or diamonds  unearthed 

from a hidden mine?

a nudge now

and in we go

two drips into the waters

below.

 #SlapDashSat