a hidden road,

a fast lane,

an unspoken treaty: to never mention this

because it is not polite!

the leaves covering nakedness

someone have some modesty;

or not – huffed the pouty man

while the slow lane is all hogged up

with fat kids unable to keep going

as the roads keep opening for those willing

to make some compromise

on what has always been relative

takes two to argue

and the dashers are racing into

places coveted

never mind the deep philosophies

the battles of the mind and heart

can all be redone

when the prize is had

and the ludicrous became the wise way,

who won?

who won?

they looked like cats just having

eaten the canary;

tongue still licking away

at remnants

of memory

memory is a keen thing,

keeps up with tasks, the physical

the mental — and deeper

than flesh

as the cheshire cat comes out of memories

and a mirror reflects

back the aging, the turning, the metamorphosis

of innocence, of naivety, of deep burning desire at all cost –

to take that leap.

arguments can be saved for later

later has arrived

and a stranger stares at bliss and security

without a heartbeat.

such excitement in days past –

who was that person?

for bit by bit,

the devil bites off

pieces of bliss and security eternal

and gave what was a reflection.

like the mirror now reminding –

and a man who is still arguing with himself

that it was all worth it.