718. MY BIG FINAL LETTER TO THE WORLD AT LARGE

MY BIG FINAL LETTER
TO THE WORLD AT LARGE
(to one Doctor Shamek)
You can enter at will, stay as long as you wish,
and leave at your own choosing. I don't care.
Wherever the metallic mountains are, I will remember
the location in time; magma and heavy elements,
all the iron at the core. It's been a long, dismal season,
this time of history and riot. But nothing has happened.
Same-sex couples leaving notes on the door, single boys
looking for more, unwarranted men and prelates of all
stripes pretending to be alert, more for what they are than
what they aren't. In the museum, a few yawns and a dagger;
small moments of great elation. The music man plays yet
his rainbow calliope but - as is apparent - no one listens.
-
'So,' the analyst said, 'why don't you just sit down
and we'll continue this talk.' I nodded, more in
appreciation of his gall than of anything else.
Certainly not tact. And I had even less.
-
'You bum-fucked misogynist, you make me puke.'
Well, anyway, that's what I wanted to say, but didn't.