Two Sacks

My precious ball of myelin
Salvaged, then lost
After which, sent to the sticks
Banish like punish like varnish

To walk and talk and feel
Akin to a new diary
Reporting numbers, patterns, data
Not vivid, not vibrant, not civil

Tearing a copy in two
Knowing there is simply no room for duplicates
To set down a road more than once
Immediate apex, like zenith, peak vantage

What you had for breakfast
Converging with self
Becomes your story
Like pancakes, like pinnacles, like pentacles
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7.11.13