Do you really think you SOUND like that,
Like you sound so full of soul,
What did the wind spray onto you,
And weren’t you in that janitor’s building
Punching a time clock just like everyone else,
Not even attending to the bastions of time
That scaled the walls that and every other night,
.
And isn’t life so specific,
When you look in the mirror at your own DNA
Assuring that to be right is to die
Not now but eventually,
.
The sun’s rise seven hours impending,
Your day off tomorrow already
Shaping you as that bath that will chafe antiquity
To imbue the impossibility of your existence
On this earth to the grotesque beer gut of a pub manager
Who shirks, looking and polishing glass steins, nothing masked,
Nothing afraid.