Getting the Drift

skipping around in the sunshine

scrapes sand scratchy beats

against the sole of my memory

the miles we trod,

with the weight

of a brain stuffed with thinking,

leaves only a scrap of laughter

on the bus stop bench

more bass than treble

his voice needs that much

adjustment

tell him yourself

I have skips to count

and preserve 

somehow

without telling myself

old shoes sound better

on swept pavement

M. Flannery

July 2025