The people we write for
are always already gone
and will never read us again
we write only for ghosts
—Madeleine Shine
once it becomes clear
that you are falling asleep
at the wheel
and that some other driver
takes over
seemingly with every intent
to drive the bus off the road
it really becomes immaterial
how beautiful the destination
how well you describe it
how it is just around the next bend
at this point your passengers
are advised to cut their losses
and jump
before the next lapse
they can grieve later
for the garden they never reached
for the dreams they lost along the way
but they will live
as they watch
the mad bus
the driver
and his dark brother
disappear into the mountains
.
.
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