My favorite word is segue, how it
surrounds the now like a soft russet blanket
weaved from strands of everything
that has been, and has yet to be.
It’s the background scenery that defines a day;
kids playing hide and seek at the strip mall
while you wait for some mediocre
spinach stromboli, dead leaves
sprawled across an empty driveway.
It’s all the words that mean more
when blended into one amorphous sound.
It’s the silly penguin-shaped bookmark
that came free with your library card,
and the countless stories it kisses into memory
while you rest for the next experience.
Segue is the silken step you take
whenever your path makes apparent
its passing simply by existing.
It’s perpetual maybe without finale,
the beginning / end / beginning / end / middle,
and all of those fractions in between.