inner peace
is like the balance
one finds in “Vienna.”

it scampers
beneath bent streetlights
and smacks its lips
at a well-dressed cake
you want, but not as much
as that navy blue pantsuit.

to seek reality
is to take good news
and warp it into something contagious.

a hand on your shoulder
eases a wince
and a “please, just stop”
though you haven’t seen
this earnest visitor
since your last confession.

hand-washed jeans
are drying at the rate
of your trust, unhealed.


5 thoughts on “stumble

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