Like the Shadow’s Reflection in the Lake

Bridge stranded over shadows, corrupting the implication of here to there. Planks weathered in still composure, loosen and protrude a nail rusted in succession of rain tickles, 

An inch 

Secures naked toes lubed in mold, enough to dispel tetanus conibear seizure. Water cleans stone of outer desires and leaves the bald disbelief that age is only a number. 

Not a suicide leap. 

Jump and (using imagination) parachute opens, floats to the bottom like a pound of bricks, or was it a pound of feathers?

“Ta, DA!” is the standing ovation. 

“Wanted to wash my face, but mistook my reflection for Narcissus.”


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