1000. VETERAN APOSTASY AND A BOAST

VETERAN APOSTASY
AND A BOAST
(a summing up)
The figure is the segment of what we have done
- no more, no less. Invariably, just thinking this
over brings a shudder. On the side of the road at
Oakdale, I see there's a police car hiding out.
Where is it that police hide? In their minds?
Anywhere? Places not yet created? Or not
yet 'violated'? That cop, I know, goes home
at night to something. Such as is, has to be.
-
My hands, on the wheel (let's say) grasp.
Difficult word, that, since so many of us
grasp, in effect, nothing at all. All that
is - before we pass - is hiding out, not
letting us see. And then, in some stealth,
we arrive - fresh-dead meat for all to see.
-
My time in the hostel was filled with maneuvers;
as many as a sport allows - the feint and the dodge,
the aversion, the waver. Yet, as solid as - say - cows,
the force-field of logic became like a wall, made of
glass perhaps but a wall nonetheless. People would
hit it and fall. Tensile strength? That they really meant.
-
'You can beat me, you can pummel.
I can take the bruise,
ain't no Beau Brummel.'