Hassling away, the spitting effusive fight continues,

With little attention to harm done,

Only winning inventive is considered a prize.

 

Time to leave, make changes, consider alternatives if the pain continues, unabated.

Even after shouts of incompetence are diluted by distance.

 

THE RED DOOR IS OPEN

 

Five times I gulped again,

The Welsh hillside, on a winter’s night,

Saved by the telegraph pole,

Then gasping for breath, I accepted it all,

Yet was reprieved. Twice.

 

Appendix bursting in a rear seat,

And the Lockerbie airplane,

As the wind blew in the mountains of NH,

Almost dismounting me,

For the last time.

 

These breaths are were not my last.

For a reason to be determined.