LEARN TO DO ALL
THESE THINGS TOGETHER
The sun has a harrowing mask, the world a disguise.
We are broken into our own little pieces, while
outside the legends the living survive.
-
Now they bring the cars doors home. I hear them
slamming and the voices of boys not yet men
are heard - the awkward and raspy change
once again, while I sit here to ponder.
-
I haven't a suspense any longer - all my
mysteries, like the acne of boys too - have
been cleared up. Everything solved, but
still making little sense - and why did
that butler have that knife anyway?
-
Would I want to say my prayers in some other
language, if only I knew the tongue? Kneeling like
a fruitcake at the bedside of a jerk? Sending
something back, so they'd remember my name?
-
An immanent demise can, for certain, draw attention.
Now learn to do all these things together.
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