to pass the time, to pass the time,
all i do is sit in vacant chairs to pass the time—
so much of it wasted on plasticine smiles with polyethylene teeth, plastered onto faces with synthetic cheeks.
reflecting on days gone by, one whole year, made mostly of lies.
i do what i do, 
what it takes to survive.
i wake up, i come home, the middle part eludes me.
months i've spent with snakes in the daffodil patch.
anticipating the moment i can grab and squeeze, like duas serpentes in an infant boy's clenched fists.

it's hard to glean how much of myself i can reveal,
i only leave the door unlocked when i see a crack in the other person's foundation first.
it's a shame, that some people never get to see that if you step closer, the knives and razors are all very dull.
they're for show mostly, for parlour tricks and a sleight of hand.
blades that should bite just brush against fingertips unscathed.
but, sands through the hourglass and all. 

all of it, what did it amount to?
what did i learn? what was the lesson?
what was the parable, the prodigal son? 
i burn the cash, i come crawling home with holes in my pockets?
no, no, i think i am the mustard seed—
the wheat among the weed.

with the way i've been thinking, i would make my father proud,
and not the one i was told to believe in, inside of parochial classrooms and stained glass chapels, 
but the one i had to teach myself to believe in, with time and age.

"a learning experience..."
what did i learn, what was the lesson? what have we learned?

if i don't leave now then i will never get away.
abby