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.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written in June, 2007.  Work in progress.

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