6. fleo

a green marble rolls down the road
toward the drain, slips through the grate
falls  eight feet to the boom, bounces
off a piece of granite,  cracks and

stops. my hands do not fit
through the grate, if they did
they would not reach  the tiny prize
such things are saved for  television.

The iron will not budge,
every bit of strength is not able
to move the unwilling.
Forever

comes. goes. comes again.
the marble remains.  I remain
the day gets old, but nothing changes.

dammit. nothing ever changes.