Opera house

I had an episode
an overload,

the golden claw of a yellow sun
turned its gun on me,
my inclination was to run.

it’s a binary digit
that scratches my eyes
to find
an irritating integer.

Can you count on a man that preaches from a mountain?
are you certain?

Collating my thoughts to get strands
I can weave into baskets or cases in case I go,
another episode
a long haul road overloaded and at times overboard,
shored up by whiskey of the Jameson variety

an anxiety shared with a soda
a double overloader,

© 2018, John Smallshaw.