THE AWAITING GAME

I will listen, if you
​
​sing a song for me.
You’re the only free one,
because you forget too much
and too often.

Could be preoccupation,
which I don’t see,
or the slime in your brain--
confusion not compliance.

Help me forget for a moment
and hear to listen
like shooting unseen
footage to kill time.

Like a cat in an unopened box,
like repression,
known to be unintentional,
you can help me forget.

You can help me out,
and we will be collective
with our absent minds,
in our intentions.

As the years become months,
months carry days,
days fold into hours,
hours drip to minutes,

seconds carry on
the sweetest hymns


H.E. Buttz