Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Call It Good

On a good day, I take it for granted.
I am ordinary and too civilized, closed
to all but one misinterpretation,
the non-sense of it staunched,
the speech that gets found.
Is liberating, though, this recovered
old age that I will forget will be awful.
You've departed from this step, and the moon
is never straight. Where we came to ignore
it, yet nobody sees everything that's wrong
with them. I wonder if we missed the short-
cut. We can't see into the mountains
of our past. Then what does the crowd
signify? Is it really that you disapprove?
Once, bleached figures spread on a dark floor--
silence, fear, and all their hanger-ons.


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