today
i am not young enough to
be trusting
i still believe the worst of people
for the simple, grownup reasons
that the worst is what i've seen
i still worry about my bread
though i can't turn it black
or white
i am still addicted to
sophistication
it is like a scab
i can't stop twisting
scratching, wanting
and it is depressing
gradually
in tears and blistered
stupid feet we are stumbling toward
the wheatfield of bliss
and infinite rest
to breathe, to throw those dirty clothes off
under the sun
we become children
for now we're not completely free
but you have to take the first step.