Here I sit
stuck between
two eternities,
history and
the history that will be.
A flake off someone’s life
that isn’t any more
falling
waiting
to hit the ground
and fill it
beyond imagination
beyond horoscopes
beyond hunger
beyond new beginnings
beyond new years.
I put my hat on
and count, 10, 9, 8 ……..
I count the days until
I count no more.
Ah! But then there will be fireworks!
The end, an unending hangover.
The end, no new year.
