early saturn-morning wake up calls

marietta georgia, only

half a dozen years ago,

I sat in a hotel room and was told

my first-hand fortune in the heat of

august, wrapped in sweet tea loquaciousness,

green hurt and geometric auras,

I saw a future like one sees the mountain,

set for climbing. but the red wagon,

I pulled was already full of emerged ideas,

failures I towed behind me and I

sat on the curb of my

own indecision, ate georgia peaches

and let the world slip by, till only

recently.