I don’t wanna let you down. I wanna
give you a good life, wanna marry you.
He said to her, who never said a yes.
I must our country save; democracy
should bloom anew under my poetry.
He said to them, who never read a word
of all he slathered their way.

Practicing a bend don’t break sanity
is risky business. You will talk with Jill
not present. You’ll pledge her a family
when she’s not listening. How lonesome will
you grow?, I do begin to wonder.
You’ll grow so lonesome and ponder so wide
in shallows muddied by your churning feet.
You’ll beg and barter God and flop beside
the hollow legged card table desk. Go Beat
a different drum! That’s well and good
but marry her who could and would pick you.
But what about Kierkegaard and his knight
of faith?
Yes, let me die down broken lonesome lost
if make
eternal configurations run right
and take
us together into the Light that’s tossed
against the shifting waves who roll up on
tan sand and spread flat fingers far beyond
the edges we thought we’d seen,
the pleasures we dreamed might mean
something

ugh you just make excuses to dodge it all, you once-wild-now-tired-eyed inbetweener!

author: mmm
editor: well
copyright:mw