from his first visit to The
Museum of Science and Industry
in Chicago, I had hot hands
for an interminable ride home
that stood like a cylinder,
and about the same width.
that thrilled me, shortened
I placed it on the top stair
of the second floor of our house.
zzzh-bap, zzzhh-bap, zzzhh-bap
I watched as it descended,
ran down ahead and waited
is overkill in the overthrill.
latter comes on us like can’t sleep teen-age
infatuation for someone of the
it can’t be helped or moderated, a holding
back so as not to kill
something of true merit.
admit I haven’t the cure, but have stopped worrying over it; what’s the
harm in an occasional comet
streak? You always can walk away.
you can learn something about yourself when confronted by an
explosive beginning followed
by a fizzled finish.
it a careless entry that beguiles you? Or could it be an incandescent
vision that needs only a firm,
main thing to rule out: the fizzle is a result of your own fear.
© 2013 Allan Cox, Allan Cox & Associates Inc. All Rights Reserved.
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Labels: Saturated, To Ponder, When Awe Doesn't Last