small wonder with wanderlust
walks head in clouds to lord over
his tiny earth
his little world
of snowbanks and mudballs
broken windows
and railway tracks
to throw stones at and from
little streams like rivers
from 1,000 feet to his eyes
sunburns in southern Ontario summer
while quarry cliffs call to the heedless
just a 13 mile bike ride away
we dive all day all day all day
it was
for the most part
never about ‘we’
there was no such thing
when i was young, you see
it was only ever me
running, walking, singing me
laying under warm sky stars me
drinking the cool creek water me
only me of hardcore hazy heavens
longing me
loving me
giving all that i am me
and i
with years of world behind
i
i am still me
Nevertheless the song is true. “The old grey mare, she ain’t what she use to be”.
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