Draped in leaves
hung with vines
massed with grapes
a hundred bunches
daydreaming
the vast inclines
maybe tomorrow
one of my hunches
I remember
small, a boy
my mother's arms
we read these pages
don't recall
this show, that toy
funny what
survives our ages
stupidly I say
what I said I wouldn't, one more night
and try to navigate the vines
the tangle seems impossible
pretend to get away with something
knowing I didn't get it right
knowing it is all on me
knowing I'm responsible
what
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