Just once I’d like to see you,
Instead of going into that computer lab and checking that e-mail,
Go out into the parking lot
And do that dance where you’re climbing up the tree
In your sports jersey
Like one of the antiquated rustic men
We see in our dreams
.
But I know,
This is your squall,
This is your death —
Beaming out onto the sun
With everybody knowing you and throwing eyes
Into the side of your skull,
Vengeance, sweet vengeance.