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.