Poem

This poem of mine from my past reminds me of today....

what it’s like

lines change like shadows,
short and sweet or longer
than they ought to last/
the slicing and pasting
and not quite gripping,
worn down to what’s left;
cold coffee and metered resignation/

this is what it’s like,
like it or not/ a dozen lost relatives
standing at a bus stop
and suddenly realizing they are going
to the same place/

when i got there,
where I was
yelled you’re at the wrong
place/ house/ page/ moment/ conclusion
and everybody else knows/ but being
used to having the last word,
i edited the line
and had everyone captured
in my place/ house/ page/ moment/
with my conclusion/