West (day 313)

Perhaps there were golden wings that floated by my being
On the day I looked the other way
When the cold shoulders washed away the last glowing embers
Of the landsliding memories

Indeed, without the violet flowers littering these steps
I’d have passed alone long ago
Hand in hand with the deceit of deception fondly
Clearing the way for another

But then again, who sold the calloused palms
Of the unholy man to the corporate man
Who gave the soldiers of misfortune the chance to count on banks
Of unwashed driveways sliding sideways

It wasn’t I. It wasn’t thou who hast led the unmarked graves
Blindly into the horizon, which ironically
Is the same direction of home: West
Perchance you could give a lone man a hitch?

In time that cold shoulder turned my way and lingered
Changed from the years of regret and abuse
Unmarried by chance to the same banks the soldiers do depend
Unobserved by the same furrows that shade my brow

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