The Full Gillespie

Hurtling to earth,

Eyes asquint and cheeks doing a

Full Gillespie in the vortex.

Armfuls of precious possessions

Fly away like from a dropped file

In a sudden merciless gust.

Lose this, lose that, here and gone:

The pillars of your psyche

The stones of your temple

Adjust, must adjust to

What to save from what is left

How long to the inevitable impact

What is left to do without the teeth,

The stamina, the voice of the little head,

The hope of the big break— The only choice:

Is to flail on down for dear life,

or Buck up and Hit it like a Bomb.