just like gatsby

sometimes i can still imagine him
standing at the edge
of a west egg dock
peering through the night
and constant fog towards
a distant shore
just across the bay
and the green light
which called his name
yet stood for so much more
pulsing like the beat
of a faithful lover’s heart.

transfixed by the spell
of his best laid plans
somehow going to waste
yet still he strove to capture
what could never be
continuing to believe
that our collective past
can always be erased
right up until the sudden
end awaiting us all
with her name
reduced to a whisper
and hung like a daisy
forever on his lips.