And on the longest day you perch
Upon the edge of land
That ends where I begin
And expect statements
As if questions had been raised,
And not assumed; picking bits of
Scenery to offer me as payment.
But waiting aids my mental state
And percolates the space
Between realities; should rush be
Handed petrol fumes to bloom
As you require, or hush remanded
Mentally in rooms that have acquired
Time’s respect. You will be next to
Know what manifests across
The road, even if its toll grows,
So park a little longer and
Appreciate the current view
As the morning may
Bring warnings of what’s due.
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