Questions

And there are times when the questions seem rhetorical, like an unsolvable puzzle with its pieces missing and picture worn away.

As I stand upon this precipice, a million questions fill me and drain me. I teeter.

I know Prufrock and his love song. Unwillingly, I follow his footsteps as if dragged.

They say its a two way street, walking one way allows for the other to walk the other. Yet, I've walked this street before, hoping, hoping. And as if by a bell, its promises break. I fall. I shatter.

Yet, here, again, should I walk this road?

Crazy and irrational, says Woody Allan, but we need the eggs.

Maybe, I'll read the road signs carefully this time.