AN IRREGULAR ODE
Thirty days shy of forty,
on a rush-hour-crowded Coney-Island-bound F train,
I questioned the exact circumference of the sandy circle
in which the Children of Israel wandered for forty years.
Forty years.
Were desert environs so sundry as to provide a passable
facsimile of farther & farther? Of progress rather than round…
![](https://nakedpunch.com/wp-content/plugins/trx_addons/components/lazy-load/images/placeholder.png)