wiggle room?

Wiggle room?

By james a. galgano

No wiggle room for wonder

Each domino disappears into horizon.

Eyes bloodshot blink through tears

Satiating a brook's babbling thirst

Memories dance like ballerina's delight

Each minuet it is so hard to forget.

What unfortunately felt so right at the time?

So, was it victimless as first thought or a crime?

Did you even get the alibi half right?

Or did the words ramble as usual into "dead of night."

Where the only corroboration was an alcoholic's tale

One where you did not even know you were there?

Lost in a maze of inescapable recollections.

Before going quietly with not as much as a goodnight

While domino theory feared came through misdirection

Within old, tired eyes captive reflections

Cloud what was once thought perfect symmetry.

Where thus forever remains, you judge and jury?

Without wiggle room in predicting the verdict's delight

There beneath reclining dominoes one remains contrite.

Within a whirl of recurring reminders into "dead of night"