GRATE ME LIKE
A CHEESER, NAKED
My dog is here, snoring again - she sleeps some
nights away in a slumber miraculous and happy
and brave. I just know it. I love the noises.
Mystical, magic eyes I have not. Arms that
sag and get tired to life. A back near to broken
with burdens and boxes. I can hardly stand tall,
let alone at all.
And then, before you know it, it's something like
Christmas again - all that bullshit and cant and
cavil. 'Why to bother?' is the way some Shakespeare
would put it : 'tis better then to swank the night than
take some ignoble Yule and swat you on the head
before it is fired and burning its own anon.'
Yeah, well, something.