Mid

Is the lie to deny

Or to accept it

Just take a photograph of the Lantana

Virtual lens and virtual grain

Orion, can you hear me?

There’s a strain in my knees

And reflected heat

Beneath my feet

That plod in shoes not made for walking

Muggy air is thick

And clings like guilt

Over things I cannot change

But I have a plan

Still in editing

But steps are laid out

Like the steps leading me forward

To the small public dock

And its guano stained railing