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.