Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Moral Fiber

Standing, peeling on the inside
like an old pear;
him limping on the concrete, rubber soles
ba-dum ba-dum un-
even on the pavement, slow away
from me and I do not know his name.
He is to me Ba-Dum Ba-Dum Ba-Dee,
Twisted Knee and Hook-foot Reverie.
Ba-Dum, I wish I love-you-loved you.
Enough at least to ask your name
and call on Love instead of shedding
crisp-invisible skin here in this doorway that reveals
a thin clean nothing underneath.