This May be the Last Time
An old rock song plays
Distantly in my head
Behind three waterfalls.
The first waterfall, my tinnitus,
My faded memory of the song,
The third waterfall, my indifference. . .
I find that new songs don't age well
But the old ones seem to want something. . .
You never understood me,
You never listened.
Here, I'm on a swing.
On the upswing, air sweeps by
Pretending to resist
But thrilled to make room;
Kids know all about this rush!
On the backward swing
The wind is a little confused.
Few things in nature move backwards
For good reason. . .
When the tree rocks back and forth,
What is back, what is forth?
But forward is the way to center now and
This may be the last time, children,
Maybe the last time
I don't know.
GARY LINDORFF is an artist, musician, poet and counselor / dream-worker who practices shamanic techniques, and who lives in rural Vermont with his wife and two dogs. (He is also Dave's brother.) His website is: BigDreamsWeb