As my afternoon eased into the doldrums
Refuting against my wishes, another fake
Tinkerbelle set forth in the Atlantic while
I rest my back on an urban replacement
Of my grandfather’s old oak chair
My ginger-cat’s purr somehow brought
The agitated afternoon back to his senses
For he scram as if to give my dusk her cue
The half-eaten faces-thus aglow manifested
The Royal decadence of my
epoch
Her letters were resting on the pelmet
She had not written when she intends
To return to my dire lyre’s tune of vanity
And the fragrance had followed me still;
In hushed conversations, they had given
Me many a name; much to my amusement
The streets clowned around to mock
My conscious evasions from neon lights
And then they led me on to dimmer
Escapades- the indecisions of younger days
The days marred by eloquence of youth
As I greet another failed endeavor
To revive her scent from what was left
Of her belongings and her vibratos on
Dusty shelves; in leftover hours I trot
Further to see the face of her man in
Sepia photographs that she left behind
I have known the man from time-long lost
I have seen the man creep in my epiphanies
Heard his laugh in digressions and dreams
Of braided humor fit for the aristocrats
With divine fortune and eyes of disbelief
He was never the Fool you see
He could never have been the Fool you see?
With eyes fixated at the photograph did
I pave the path for the sagging proposition
To belch out the fusty question that had
Trailed me in sickness and in health; and
Those voices would hiss “Why did you cease?”
Then the incredulous laugh would probe
“Why did you cease?”
Their disbelief will rub against the night
To revolt will I arise, not to go on another
Victory march; for I am immune to their
Insidious needs; Alas! Tonight they draw
Me in their politic plea; but I am simple man
Wait; they do not seem to agree
The photograph hits the ground to make
A sullen sound for me to react or at the
Least remember the virility of the past
Remember the flesh and the lives of men
The exploits of war and the smell of those dames
Her letters are ruffled by the wind and
The chimes unanimously revolt; now I
Remember the man; the man whom I have
Been meaning to forget; the man who was
Behind this digression; her man
He had lived here under this roof once
Oh! Do not ask where he is and do not
Tell where he might be
Thus the Fuhrer pulled the trigger for one last time
And Sputnik took another lap in search of the damp earth.
