Sonnet 3

Mark my words I'm not telling you what 

you want to know you want to know too

much my mind distant from within ear-

shot of you your symptoms your meds

your fractional strident take on the world 

from your small sphere thin as a banana peel

and moist no longer yellow rather dirt brown

like sharp leaves blinding the once green

ground I'm not holy enough to let this go

I'm on my way away from the jagged path

past the elbow in the country road where

people park and dodge the chemistry plus

inclinations of others wending from intention

toward some accidental arrival that goads.