Internal Dialogue

pretty slips away like a party guest

and speaking for myself, i would say don’t cry.

manage the shift from object to atmosphere

while maintaining a frame substantial enough to hold grandkids  

and a brain that can figure out the bougie coffeemaker.

of course, worry for your soul, battered these days by hopelessness;

of course, recognize, with appropriate guilt, fortune’s favor;

not everyone gets to fade. welcome the landslide that please god buries you before your children.

occasionally wisdom reminds you pretty was actually kind of a jerk,

and you have to agree this sunset is beautiful.