April Fox

There are spaces in the middle
where the lines between then and now
are blurred
and the time before is cast
in vivid technicolor
much too bright for the reality
that was
and flipping through the channels
of your mind
you realize that life and death
and light and dark
are all subjective and the picture show
that played back then
was farcical at best, a budget comedy
you stayed tuned into
just to see the end

And in that space
where the color comes from changing leaves and the chill
is just the wind
you find yourself no longer caring
for the stage show retrospective and you flip
the switch
and head outside
to breathe.