A sprinkling of Dylan in my latest piece written exclusively for FVR…
Looking in the mirror he sees his own reflection
Also, someone else
his father?
Same facial expressions
Same syntax
Same desires
His great worry, carrying a crow on one shoulder a bag on the other
“Your Daddy he’s an outlaw. And a wanderer by trade. He’ll teach you how to pick and choose, and how to throw the blade. He oversees his kingdom, so no stranger does intrude. His voice it tumbles as he calls out for another plate of food. One more cup of coffee for the road.”
He’s getting old or older, but it is all the same.
When will wisdom kick in so he can learn the game
When self-care presides over the empire of blame
Silver hair
Same hairline
Same destiny
The crow’s song of infamy
“To the valley below.”
He smiles, all his own teeth
Flicks off the radio, the news too bleak
Running…
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