Man w/o Secret

 

I stumble into the Apple Store
like a sage from Kansas: Cornbread crazy.
Pursuing milk.

“How can I help you today” she asks
from inside a little black dress that
shuts down all my vectors.

“Where to begin” I sigh
like my old man re-telling the time
Claire told him
to go jump rope
and he did.
He was Pawtocket’s champ
after-all.

He jumped through the hoops
w/o frown and foul word.
Gliding through the house
a man w/o secret.
Juggling the burdens we all find grave
w/an ease that came from above.

“Sorry to mislead you” I affirm
“but all the balm I need
is my own revery. Above the binary
where the mind holds sway
over machine. And not vice versa,
as it happens to be.”

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