Atoms and time drawn together on a line
split the difference, clear the mind.
Let guilty conscience fall behind.
When you were five
did you think that when you died
you’d be the words that you can’t find
always one syllable behind?
Did you want something to show for it,
a little proof of ownership?
Can’t negotiate your way out
or spin the planet backwards
because you’re yesterday’s news
the paper blowing down the sidewalk
the joke you told to everybody
the sequel no one saw.
You can point out anything you please
but your arms expanding by degrees
only mark the distance from the day you found
that you’re worthless and you know it,
surrendered all your ownership.
You’ve lost the leg you stand on
so limp off towards the sunset
because you’re yesterdays news