seven years of intermittent gear.
lost pages, scattered remnants, long pauses.

i hear the sounds around me and smile. read the sidebar.

i no longer worry about spaces. single, double, less punctuation. never squandered unspent time.
recognizing opportunities when they arise to correct mistakes, left intentional decisions to those stirring beside me.

note letters and spaces mark meaningful passages.
nothing left on the page to worry about. slumping, uneven rules sporadically enforced when i remember the change. my twos were one example. remember single space my friends. harder than imagined it would be.

yoda speaks in halting tongue, words come to those like us worst off spent muttering beyond space time and continuous stemming tidal waves creeping close to the end of the key lime pie.

remind me again why i sit on passages wondering about less frequent matters more important to you than me. jealous spears and jello smears signal drugs like dirty fingernails. one more time tell me again the way it's supposed to be.

this train of thought left the station with me behind waving a white flag.
wonder not
consider
not repeated
letters, ink on a page
career opportunities
flagging decks projecting
not repeated repeated.

why now, why this, why not once before when life looked sad.
i like to think i live for one thing.