Finding Godo
Fifteen years in the same apartment,
before that twenty-five years in a bungalow.
Earlier still; digs, dumps and bedsits.
Peripatetic ambulation's
traveling in circles.
Left that world, travelled
met myself coming and going.
Saw the reaper
he had the eyes of a child.
Fell in with the dangerous kind,
loved many a bold faced liar,
misused the tender-hearted
spat at the devil; he wore a mask
behind that mask was a loving God
dancing on skulls.
Took a train up to the highest mountain
that a train can reach
and no further,
but it got me here into a recliner
musing over a cold beer
and a string of dwellings
pulled now like empty carriages
behind some derailed thoughts.
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