A Haiku: The Dichomoty of Walks

Strolling down the street
thoughts tangled, memories passed
feet force me forward

Already Here.

I always feel like I need to
     take one more step
                 to get There.

Refusing to acknowledge that There
        has long become
 Here.

The irony, sigh.

In my frequent footsteps forward
the opportunities of the present passed.

I drink it up fast.

When I taste poetry
I drink it up fast
with a big thick straw
you know the kind, swirled red and white stripes
and when my slurping of syllables subsides
I look into the cup
sucked dry
and think
i must have been thirsty.