How To Be Middle Aged

In dreams, the urge to give advice
when none has been solicited;

the ravenous desire for novelty and approval
at any level, for any amount of time.

The realization of being drenched with flop sweat
in the dark, in the bed, when coming up from the dream.

The rage at daylight transgressing
the last available peace.

Rising and trudging onward as if there were
a discernible destination.

Far ahead, on the road — figures.
Bandits, friends, fellow pilgrims; no way to tell.

Fantasizing camaraderie, catastrophe, 
blind ignorance, indifference; freezing in place.

All this dust on the body still soaked in
self-stench. Terror of how this will appear to others.

The internal debate over how long a stalemate has to last
before one can call it a home.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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