July 1973

Flashes here,
Now there.
It’s behind you.
Hot and sweaty,
But I have to find where you went.
Holding on tightly to your home.
If I drop it,
All will End.
Shattered on the ground.
Like dreams out of reach
On a far off summer night.
We’re only realizing it doesn’t matter.
Our lives will end soon.
Though holes are punched in the lid,
The air’s too stale to breathe.
Chase the flashing.
Before it’s too late.


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