(for my hero, Albert)

It is lonely here midst the tall knobby sugar cane.
Quiet. Almost too quiet.
Quiet enough for the voices in my head to ring again.
Life can be so long. Almost too long.
Long enough to make me weary of these worn-out shoes.
I sigh, a slow protracted release of heavy air.
I am tired. Almost too tired to fight anymore.
I could just sit down. I could just sit down and never rise.
It would be difficult to find me, here in the lofty grass.
Almost too difficult.

But too easy.
I turn with resolve to continue my course
(crying to deaf ears, embracing exclusive arms)
and unexpectedly meet the afternoon train.

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