The Ocean of Time

No bridge can span the ocean of time
No numbers can measure such distance

I don’t trust memory
Anymore
Perception is distorted through
The prism of experience

Through the blood we left behind
Through the sawdust and the seawater
Through the storms that never end
Through the steady, lonely heartbeat of
The dog who’s had his day


And the cat who’s satisfied his
Curiosity
And his salty appetite

Now his tongue is old and worn out
He doesn’t instill the same terror
Or burn his bridges with the same
Ferocity
But he hears things I can’t
Maybe even your song

He knows one sweet thing
I can never know:
What it’s like to not
Be me


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