a little bit of hope.
a little bit of laughter.
usually not for me.
I’ll just hang with my albatross,
with shoes about to drop.
I’ll just sit here and anchor
against storms.
a sociopath’s gift for smiling when others do.
I’ll breathe later
when it’s safe
and no one’s looking
and the chatter stills
and the tide goes out
and i drift
on gypsy currents.
