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Copyright: Fred Robel, and Fritz365 2010-2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog's author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Fred Robel and Fritz365 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Friday, December 11, 2020

When the Mob Thinks You Know Too Much and They Buy You a Brand New Pair Of Shoes

Come close
Lean on in
A tête-à-tête
As my feet 
Are encased
Within concrete

We'll discuss deep subjects
A universe
A mote of dust
An ounce of trust
Until our time runs out
As all things must

Remove your mask
Let me see your face
I've revealed all my secrets
Now lets hear yours
Allow me to read your lips
As sounds can be ignored

Almost time now
You prepare to push me in
One last glance
A word or two
Beleive me I understand
This is what you need to do

A moment of weightlessness
Then the water closes in
I'm holding my breath
The light begins to dim
Seconds tick by
Fish begin to pay attention

This is fine
I think to myself
As I exhale one last time
Face obscured by bubbles
Cold and quiet all around
I can think of worse places to be found

- FDR11DEC2020




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