4566. AND HIM THE MOUNTAIN

AND HIM AND THE MOUNTAIN

By not wishing to be undone I am undone

and all the circumstances of Lethe and

Lysistrata can't help. Leaving it all again,

I will hide these stolen sheaves behind a shelf

where no one reads. It's all so simple, really.

-

Born beneath a fullest moon drooping, with

carrion and wolves both on the run  -  nothing

looking back and drooling  -  I awoke with a start 

and my first words were 'Leave it all again!'

-

('They're killers, just like us.'

'We aren't killers,' I say back).

-

Some man told me my Doppelganger was calling;

it was on the line. I told him I don't ever use the phone,

and he shrugged, saying simply, 'You know that scene,

I think the final one,  in that motorcycle movie, when

the bikers get shot, killed, riding along the road -  all

the gracious music playing, and all the rest  -  by

redneck chickenshit haunch-faced honchos, dickless

mavens of ineptitude? You know that one? You seen it?'

-

I had to say no, 'cause it was the truth. He said, 'Oh never

mind, it doesn't matter anyway. This reminds me of that,

with the phone call you won't take and all the rest. You

know they could only do that scene one, no second takes?

You know why? Because they really shot those guys, they

only got one chance. They were killers, just like us.'

-

'We aren't killers,' I again said back,

'and anyway, that's not true.'