too much too little
too fat
too thin
or nobody.
laughter or
tears
haters
lovers
strangers with faces like
the backs of
thumb tacks
armies running through
streets of blood
waving winebottles
bayoneting and fucking
virgins.
an old guy in a cheap room
with a photograph of M.
Monroe.
there is a loneliness in this
world so great
that you can see it in the
slow movement of
the hands of a clock
people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.
people just are not good to
each other
one on one.
the rich are not good to the
rich
the poor are not good to the
poor.
we are afraid.
our educational system tells
us
that we can all be
big-ass winners
it hasn't told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.
or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone
untouched
unspoken to
watering a plant.
people are not good to each
other.
people are not good to each
other.
people are not good to each
other.
I suppose they never will be.
I don't ask them to be.
but sometimes I think about
it.
the beads will swing
the clouds will cloud
and the killer will behead
the child
like taking a bite out of an
ice cream cone.
too much
too little
too fat
too thin
or nobody
more haters than lovers.
people are not good to each
other.
perhaps if they were
our deaths would not be so
sad.
meanwhile I look at young
girls
stems
flowers of chance.
there must be a way.
surely there must be a way
that we have not yet
thought of.
who put this brain inside of
me?
it cries
it demands
it says that there is a
chance.
it will not say
"no."
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