The repulsiveness will pass
and all will be diplomatic.
though the heart might desire
with a Samsonian strength,
the mind’s Delilahian command
disallows.
i smell the base notes of April
cold and unreasonable
on the gray sidewalk
smeared with shit.
the shoe leather of the
Langer’s years no longer
remands my weight. the thoughts
have become too stained and heavy
with the ugliness of fate.
no longer is it important
how the words fall out
and in what succession they may
land. all that matters is that
you are well and undisturbed
locked in your thoughts
and creature comforts.
the birds will fly and filth
will drift. we will wake up
and toil. spit at the gods and idols.
Strauss will play and cigars will emit
perfumed relic. i wear my pants in
constant grief, i drink the beer,
i take your quiz.
as you smile and walk away
my blood will crawl and
die someday; only as long
as i let you.