Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Cement-Footed Comment

On foot, I hobbled around my life,
Shackled and incompetent,
But, in a car, pointed away from town,

I flew, free, an arrow released
From the bow, until descending,
Slowed, I cursed gravity's rainbow,

Humanity's inane necessities,
The lack of miracles for me,
Zacchaeus in a sycamore tree.

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