July 6, 1971 (I was 26)
That man manipulates Maya,
melts mistakes into his father’s generation,
makes his moment diminutive
by beginning today, tomorrow’s glory
or celebrating it’s promise
“This is the first day
of the rest of my life!”
Future paths are easily focused,
perspectives lay themselves out like blueprints.
The problem with illusion
has always been its lack of confusion.
From Lot to Dylan the advice is the same,
but that man doesn’t like being here
because he can’t remember how he came.
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