Poem by R.M. Dolin
Damaged Goods
Everything fades,
which requires coming to terms
with just how hard it is
to establish a new normal.
Like late harvest grapes
turning in the sun
we’re all damaged goods.
Decisions made in haste.
Desperate to delineate
the fine line separating
heaven from hell,
the wise man culls
what he no longer needs,
a humanly impossible undertaking.
“May you always be poor
and devoid of complexity,”
whispers the weary wind
as we pass
the place where he rests.
“At least then
you’re interesting.”
R. M. Dolin, 2015
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