Forever Knocking

I walked outside and the parking lot was full.

I couldn’t get away, couldn’t walk back inside

I felt the cold night air, outside were a handful

of past experiences, only adolescents concede.


Why it is at this very moment I cannot speak

if only then hundreds of onlookers at bay

Remembering then, when once I should seek

out life, and next week will become today.


For this we find a present moment

without backing or sense of foreground

only immediacy will have meant

a measure of this new muse we found.


I’ve never spoken to anyone about it.

He winced in pain and stepped above it.

© Thom Amundsen 10/2021

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