Margins

Written upon finding my phone in a backpack pocket, smeared with chocolate that was forgotten in a deep dark corner; thereupon reflecting on my life, the lack of margin therein and the “if only’s” of life. 

And were the hours in a day

Twenty-five, not twenty-four

And in the folds of my wallet

Hidden only a dollar more

Were the workings of this intellect

Only a faster, sharper power

Then oh world! then would I rise!

Rise to soar, to conquer, to — !

 

But no, no, this life has limits

And lips that so many times

Say yes; while the hidden “no”

Breaks the dollar to be less than dimes.

The hour fails; the sharpest brain changes not

Without the training of the mind;

And the innocent phone still lies forgotten

                           Among the fruits of spaghetti brain,

                                                                          covered in chocolate.

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