for the times

for the times
it didn’t end
and times
before it did

a slow song
with long notes
in a minor key
and 3/4 time

to be one fourth
out of touch
with whateverelse

and three fourths
in touch
too much
with yourselfs

for the times
you edgeskirted
so long you wore
the edge in
and it bent
toward the void
and lost its lip

for the wind
and the winding
maps of self-progress
always in circles,
and cycles

for the wheel
that sent you
reeling
further in
further down
instead of up
and out.

for the crave
of silence instead
of whitenoise.

all the time
overwhelmed by
dizziness
until all you need
is to stop the ride
and get off

for your chime
of hollow laughs
echoing against
the sides of
themselves

for the dark
grimaces
you mask as grins
and bear it
barely

for the tips
of fingers
whiteknuckled,
their reach
long after
your reaching

for the times
of good notes
and good days
good shades
of good greys

good friends

and goodbyes.