Adjusting to life's changes with hope… through poetry, haiku, and commentary

Between Shows


The other night,
I had just finished
watching something
or other and found

myself between shows.
The words floated then
formed in my mind—my
life is between shows.

No way I want to go
back; no idea what is
ahead. I can’t count
the times I was dead

certain about what
was next, what was
coming, or about love.
Wrong every time.

Hope was a train wreck
looking back. Decades
of deserted track. But
the train never stops;

I never arrive. Don’t
you see? The train
never stops; I never
get on. My life is

suspended

between shows.

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