Babble
brook baby in blue
Dribbled
drabs of dying due
We crossed our arms and waited
Staring into each other’s stoned gazes
We wanted an answer
We got a question.
Lying
leeching loving of lives
Freezing
fingers of fleeting fear
My folly was my own
We saw it coming but were slow
To get out of the way
The truck was running down the hill
A phallus on wheels
Painted red
With a bell that rang.
Tickling
teasing of talking tongues
Sonorous
snarling of succulent songs
We held hands but were not in love
We made words that made no sense
But offered their own comfort
In a lugubrious way, running
Like candle wax, soft, yielding
That knave they never caught—
The queen was still a virgin.
Slowly
sinking the sun goes down
Sinks
Into
the ocean
To
think that life has any meaning other than death
Am I a
fool
Or do
fools think of nothing more than satisfying
Today
Giving
themselves
To the
flow of ebb
A single beating heart.
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