Counting backwards now
years pass like cars on a turnpike
dark cold mountain passes
firefly glow of cigarettes
so many trips of unresolved guilt.
I danced with denial, no taste in it,
no taste for dark muck of graveyards,
cobwebs choking out my memories.
Lungs gulp for freedom from relevance
soon they will own me and win
to dust, ashes, praising the crematorium’s cleansing fire.