The Reptilian Part

The Reptilian Part

The end begins as a shiver,
a flutter, a twitch, a summer cold,
a bump on a tire, a silent stroke
in the reptilian brain, an affair
with not much beneath it.

It’s almost nothing to notice,
but still you sleep poorly,
wake up sad and confused,
make love without kissing,
thinking of someone else.

In the den, you watch reruns
losing yourself in solitaire,
snapping the cards on the table,
king on the ace, queen on the king,
jack, ten, nine, eight, ad nauseam….

 

©James L. Ralston

 

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