20 years old,
bare dorm room,
November dark,
somewhere above
heavy metal takes on the Grateful Dead.

Books on the desk,
unread,
tattered notebook,
scored with
scribbled lines.

Late for class,
I pause
caught by the mirror.

Ponytail askew,
red-eyed and hollow
from too much weed.
Is this life,
I ask.

10,000 stories,
33 years
12 jobs,
6 times zones ,
two oceans,
a continent,
a hemisphere,
further.

Dark May morning,
late for work,
the mirror catches me,
bathroom lights harsh
and unforgiving,
I pause

Thinning hair,
lined by winds
sun,
and smiles.
This
is life.
I grin.

Writer, walker, poet, educator. Commercial fisherman, builder, donut maker, organic grower. Boston, U. City, Maine, South Africa, Madrid.

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