Watching Eagles
A poem.
A poem.
Of course I admire the clever
After all, they know, don’t they?
They bumble through truths
with unswerving honesty
while smugly painting
cockroaches with brown innuendoes
and always manage
to keep the real knowledge from me.
But, once, I’m sure I knew things
until they changed the meaning of words.
Salt lakes are sugar to me
as I struggle
inside this beehive alphabet,
no one comes by now, they just buzz
incessantly on the edge of my vision.
But I am smarter than they think!
Although I now do not know
the language
I smile a lot,
so they are content
that I am still in here...
somewhere
Inspired by watching an elderly relative struggle to comprehend what we were saying to her as her grasp on reality began to loosen.