A September Ode

We've all been there, right where you are now

Then what's my next move?

Don't pick sides, it's your own door your entering, isn't it?

He's not the fault when there are so many other things

If you say so

While people formed of clay build things like it's just the beginning

I am so thankful

September is floating on the armour of the just right

Will suburbs be my end?

Pillows and all that soft stuff, will my ego float?

No tears ever fell on a September morning

they're not allowed to here either

but the sycophant of all reason escapes all surprises

Former gifts hail the sunrise

Forever is the circus's torment, not mine

Ah, God, I love this song, sorry, for the interruption

Like daydreams in a cathedral boxed so tight

for me to listen to

No rhythm ever performed a better storm

Light, light my giant, no devious plot in this

It is what it is

and all around me I'm suffering for what might never be

Lachapelle's award-winning book of 300 poems