Some Days

I want to lay myself down,

like the simple object

of a transitive verb.

I want to have picked

myself up, only to have

laid myself down.

Both mind and body.

While the rest of me —

goes with the wind

touching the leaves.

Tethered, green,

and free.


He’d found a pic of a WWI
soldier who looks just like him.
It explains a lot, he says.

Why he dreams of helicopters.
Always felt old.  And that was only
our first year of college.

At the time, reincarnation,
just as a concept,
was enough to change us.