Your future’s clearer, cleaner than your present and your past,

uncluttered by mists, dust, debris, facts on the ground

and ill-remembrance darkening and fragrancing the air.


Your future—whether bright, dark, drab—is of one cloth,

not nearly so complex, fine details easy to pin down,

or when it strikes your fancy, to replace, embellish, or ignore.


Unsullied, pure. You want to get your grubby hands on it—

but not so fast, not yet, in good time, cool your jets,

why rush the foreplay when you know you’ll only make a mess.

Tom Riordan lives in New Jersey. He’s a retired restaurant worker and teacher, and dreams about becoming pope for his next career.

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