gumboots

a memory (scent) is chasing me down (you aren't.. it is)
i am hunted
it is gaining
and though worth explaining
i won't give wings to your knowing
or leave my slip showing
(though softly, i am speaking secrets,
and they are louder than i know)

the pull of your absence
is suddenly relentless

again, i guess, i know the drill
my might.. my will
(i quit this habit
once or twice
or ten
or twenty
times.. and now,
the sweet rush of the cryptic rhyme
is heaven
and hell
addiction in its
delicious spell)

i invent a mirage
of colorful
riddle
to speak
because i like
to think
it actually
matters
or shatters
some glass wall

it's high as a kite flies
coasting on maybe and might be

(i didn't mean it like that, see?)

the words are nothing until they are
clearer than mud