And what can I say to you?
When playful cards spill onto the ground
and the rickety green table cartwheels apart?

And where can we go?
When the boredom and loneliness
catch us both turning cold,
growing old, indifferent, emptied
of the holy fire
that had once lit the way.

Hey, hey, hey,
what is this I feel?
Not another place to shelter:
the evaporation of all shelter.
Not a brighter perspective:
the silence gathering round
and plunging in like dracula
in his cape.

This death
searing through my ideas,
tiring out my promise,
pitting me against my strength,
knotting my letterman sweater
casually flung over my broad young shoulders.

Hey hey hey
so sorry for this for us for some mistake
I can’t locate or dissolve
for something evil within the broth.

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