The world is striped
with could and couldn't
can't and won't and never shoulda:
dark and light whose paths were laid
through choices you and I have made.
(what happens when poetry wakes you up in the middle of the night:
this one, I suspect, was triggered by lines from The Kentucky Cycle,
a play I'm currently rehearsing for, by Robert Schenkkan:
" 'Woulda,' 'shoulda' and 'oughta' -- three of the saddest words they is.")
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