An End to Complication

Life is overrated, life is complicated.
The Kinks

I listened to an interview with the man
known as Iggy Pop — the current, older,
haggard looking man, the survivor
of many hard lived years — and he spoke
with a modicum of embarrassment
of joy at this point in his life being
found in simply sharing time
with those who loved him.

He gazed out the window as he talked
about a perfect day being hot,
a humid, heavy, hot you carry like
the memory of a lover,
and of walking onto the beach,
staring at the sand merging with the water,
and finding in the waves and the cries
of sea birds an end of complication.

Somewhere in his musing there
is a song he forgot to write,
a lesson about life youth refuse
to believe and only the old fully
comprehend. Somewhere,
on the back side of youth, we all realize
we are in a race, a quest,
to find joy in simplicity

before the final
end of complication.

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Filed under Poetry

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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