Wait and See

I am a storeroom
nothing ordered but floorboards
I am a bank of snow
result of covered up history.

Following my circulation
the seven seas I sail
in every port a confession
every meal my last.

The aroma of chicken broth
the gray of change of weather
wait a bit and wait and see
if it evens out into meditation.

I am paranormal anything but
a maker, counter and spender
of dull and not quite green
bills bearing famous faces.

I am a beggar’s bowl
everything unnecessary flung
into a hole in the road
with gravel, tar and history.

My brakes stepped on hard
spin me into the next world
I have more maps in my head
than ideas soiled by statement.

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About mrsorenson

all over the place
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