It just wonders off to idle pursuits

consumed by the horror and splendor and joy and pain of living.

It’s like being on the highway in the city at night,

blurs of color created by the myriad passing cars -

beautiful and disorienting.

One day we are children,

chasing the fireflies of summer -

and then we blink.

Now it’s nearly birthday number 43.

There’s lose change in the sofa

and somewhere between those cushions,

I’m certain -

is all the thousands of seconds that slipped out of my pockets,

while chasing some now forgotten dream.

To hear more, visit conksbrain.substack.com