Sunday, May 22, 2016

fortune cookie - poem

This is not the end.
These are not the “interesting times”
foretold in my fortune cookie I refused
to eat.
I feel khaki: safe, too much
comfort with no way of escaping
to a possible unknown.
I never meant to say “I am”
but rather “I was” so that I do not forget
where I came from,
although the colour of my skin
keeps me alive.
Reminder of my place
to not stand aside and allow others their turn.
My interesting times have not occurred
and the scenery is still here and static.
Escape, perchance to finally dream

of slowly wasting away.

(photo by Carlton Johnson, copyright 2016)

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