bad beat

two birds in the hand
the bush was too far
and the pleating of our hearts
left much to be imagined
along the journey’s edges
shall you find your bread
the center is worn
and leaves nothing to be imagined

a carnival balloon dart
and all the landing in-between
someday there’ll be a clear sign
no more labyrinth gambit
life is a whole lot of waiting in line
filling space between ears
and white walls, and the time
i waited for you, and for the planets to align

but we only land in space
when we shoot for the moon.