back when he 
ran faster than his thoughts 
spilling into storm drains 
and knocking down trees 
came a silence after 
now unfound 

he doesn't get wiser 
he gets more covert 
like a squirrel trembling 
as a cyclone roars through 
what experience has taught 
is permanent 

but experience lies 
like he does every time he 
lets loose of the stray balloon 
of his thoughts once held for 
the fascination of their novelty 
now ground into insincerity 
like fine powder turned to 

muck