I walked the tapestry of a journey past
With its winding roads and stop sign codes;
Befriended 3 tires with abandoned tread
to make myself a camp on a junkyard bed.
I thought not of the sea, nor of the dead
but of the white trash Tao in my head.
I shared the night with rodents and rust
half-eaten spam and burnt pizza crust.
The fire I made for both warmth and light
did not burn to tame the wild mare of the night
And the dreams of an afterlife I did not trust
as anything but the illusions of the upper crust.
My fire burned within reach of my truth;
The future was gone, as gone as my youth.
Yet on my bed of tires my life did teach
that the sands of time was just a ravaged beach.
I slept past sunrise for lack of a clock,
Then left the junkyard to walk on the dock.
I saw for a moment and yet did not see
the person in the water I once called me.
And I knew just then the lesson of life
That all would vanish but so few would arrive.
And the crashing waves upon life's shore?
Entertains one less day; not one night more
For the Tao is a book writing its own tale
Our private hells not withstanding -
A darker shade of pale.
- ©Jobe 2011