Beg Not For A Full LIfe

(an on-purpose come-along dream)

the conveyer belt of your smiles
is under foot
beside you walking
(or is it unwalking)
an entity that balances with
a brow that corresponds to
and your tummy’s just fit
(just fit)
with just enough
of those not enoughs
to be just enough
and then
still somehow your soul
(like a baby’s simple needs)
wanders
and wanders around
inside your body
looking for itself
a completeness that only exists
in the unfinished music
of your sigh
(a son’s complexion) (a daughter’s eye)
beg not for a full life
spend this poem on this poem