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Time hurries on Once, I tried to love prettily
A prism plaything,
I wrapped it in lollipop words,
Held it to the light,
And its lusty dazzle grew old
I, discontented.
I tried, then, to love cynically
But the cynic knows the hypocrite well
And I, being both,
Stuck stubborn in my revolving door,
Spun from coated rapture to disgust,
And decided I needed new shoes.
None fit;
They all boxed my feet in
Like the caged chickens
Loaded in the bed of my grandfather's truck
And off for the slaughter
Before the Sunday table,
Ten years ago, Yesterday.
