I’m seizing the moment.
Not because the Romans told me to.
Because the moment is trying to seize me.

I must resist. There’s no alternative.
I’m back against the wall.
The wall keeps moving.
Creeping away from me and the fight.
So much for the strategic advantage of cowardice.

Some people have a bucket list. I have a barcode
pinned to my breast because I keep forgetting
what I want in the store of life.
The barcode says, “If found, return to shelf.”

People say the road rises up to greet you.
Others say it slaps you in the face and leaves
a dotted line that reads, “Pass. Any time.”

The fact is, you’ll always meet people running
in the opposite direction and everyone will say
the same thing, “Who’s chasing you?”

People don’t like beggars, or salespeople,
but they idolize billionaires who are skilled at both.
Go figure.

If life is tailor made for you, it’s a cheap suit
for others. In my case, the shoes are cheap as well.
It’s obvious the holes are not part of the design.

Holes a result of too much wear and tear
as might be found in my convictions,
my dreams, my poems,
that often start with the bang
of a great title and end with a whimper.

The truth is you keep fighting,
right to the end, when you say
to yourself, “I think I might win,”
and in fact, you do.