Garfunkel

Vascular scars
in voices chained by whimsy
drab lead confetti
falling hard, Betty

The streets are a city’s
truth
distorted by modular
separations
past, present, future

No friends
Money gone
Chances nil

His solid urethane escape
has changed to
700c and Panaracer fixed cog

We go buzzing the mean-street autos
circling stalled parking lot zombies
bombing old logging roads to dirt trails

Eat nails—healing all breaks is a trust
bonded stronger by desire
if weaker in actuality

After each step forward
you think
this will never be the same
never to sprint up the stairs
with ease of youthful springs

Yet, look, the pedaling’s smooth
the challenges, bright and clear

It’s not unlike trying to watch
solo Garfunkel in the movie
where everything’s so drab and heavy
bombarded by lead confetti: cinema tears
never truly bursting from the eye rims
because you’re spinning a cycle, unending


K. Shawn Edgar | Single Sided | Mute

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