Floating

Floating 
for a moment 
in the brief seconds 
swept up
by the minute hand, 
a day 
can be filled 
with the ache 
of moving 
from one dream
to another, 
of visions lost 
in the bottle 
or the pipe 
or through a love 
that turns out 
to be just 
another 
useless 
drug.

During 
moments of loss, 
recrimination 
and prayer 
are like 
tiny pills 
that carry us 
through the day, 
blotting out 
or heightening 
moments 
with noise or music 
only we have ears for

Forgiveness 
is always
desirable 
but would only be 
an invitation 
to more 
transgressions,
a license to rob 
the piggy bank 
of desire 
kept hidden 
in our hearts