People don’t change
I’m trying to write about people, I think
my mind indistinguishes
hands lash churning ink and faces
of mirrored distortions
between distain and frenzy
disparate thunder
breaks through
and I emerge at my laptop
writing a poem
about people, I think
and how new people remind me of old ones
the older I get
2 thoughts on "People don’t change"
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People remind me of the wavy mirrors at the FUN HOUSE. I’d walk in . . . wrap myself in the distortion and then wiggle & squeeze through the cloth rollers to get in line for the spinning disk . . .
i was a PEOPLE who wanted to get on the disk first! your poem brought me back to Playland at the Beach in San Francisco . . . in the shadow of the Cliff House . . .
I really love that description!! It reads as a poem itself. Especially stuck the landing with “I was a PEOPLE who wanted to get on the disk first”. Thank you for reading my poem