He knew.
He knew this would happen.
He knew I’d look for him.
He knew I’d give up.

Did he know that would piss me off;
That, that would be the drive
That would keep me searching
These dimly lit roads
Flash luminescent memories
In passing highway posts;
That I would turn right at
The next fork in the road,
Past the blaring yellow caution sign
He merrily rote
To ward the weary
From nebulated cliffs,
While used
To draw in marauder’s
Just like Tom.

What does his map
Of the human condition

Is it knowledge?
Was it coincidence?

How did he know.


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