Some say time is a voyage
full of unknown fates:
let us slide away on velvet seas
never to arrive.
Others prefer a definitive journey.
Our treasured lives and destinations
even our wounded lines speak of nothing
less. Each quick orbit about this planet
of money, & so on.
Back in the old neighborhood
built according to government plans
a shiny inferno of memorable injections.
Where words like these appear in the
bottom of the recycled bag, or hanging
in the rented air between the banks.
Where not enough simple pains
were ever taken for your taste.
Certain infusions now seem to be required
To witness this permanence of waste.
Long ago as we reckon time
You felt the ebb tide
In the sugar of your sea.
So you escaped
Pledged your veins and troth
To Lilly Lente & her tiny needles.
Practiced weeping with your hunting eyes.
Crushed all sweet death in your path.
Won an extra king grand in the Lottery of Hours.
Kept trying to handjob some truth out of their lies.
After decades of slim postcards, your
little animals all weaned, you
mailed your won weighty cadaver
home. This in spite: your
name had already died once.
They first laid you out
in your prized deli booth &
then to rest in a
deep bed of your beloved blue dust.
THE END