Resolution

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.