and on the 20th of september, rushed through and FORGOTTEN

If distance is a trick – of what you expect it to be

And Proximity has no texture
Other than what - you've felt - Before

And all you have at death – are the stories
You've told yourself – to fall asleep – at night

And money is worth only – what you give
– to protect it – as it determines – the scales

And I have changed and you have changed

I'll take my little chances – with no great cause

And leave you –
The pressure of such – little words