he kept coming back like a huge blue-black storm-cloud
intermittently in the sun
he kept asking the same thing
when, when, when?
where, what, who, and why?
I told him that for the umpteenth time
he couldn’t grasp it; boomerang mouth
in a deliberate, devastating attack
I took some notes, sought advice
no doubt repeating everything all over again
he still didn’t get it, mind confused
my mind bruised, get off the line
I can’t stand it, are you disabled like me?
even impaired could figure it out
change tactics, learn the ropes
of the new knowledge for them, I suppose
but the world itself is not always like we would like it to be
there are hurdles and heaps of old snow
on the same road the next day
we have to recognise it and deal with it
as best we can
so as not to drown in the stagnation of despair
from the former day
like this guy who wanted to be a god
the one who could change events
according to his wishes engraved in yesterdays
***
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About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...
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Comments (1)
You just captured me on the phone with customer service that does not seem to want to offer service to this customer. You get to decide which side of the conversation I'm on. It could easily be either. (Yeah, I was a Karen before Karens were a thing, lol--or maybe that's not so funny, just kinda sad. Embarrassing? Yeah, that probably fits.)