Undervaluing the world in its entirety in the cool breeze from the hot dog
Stand he wonders if a woman could ever satisfy him, would she have the
Power to make him happy that the kindly, satisfied, veteran women
And the marching clouds understand. He rips his paper in half pretending
It's a heart.
Later, in the hot breeze from the ice cream stand he curses the variety of
The world which enthralls him and, turning in a circle, wonders if he
Could ever make a woman truly happy, make her live in some sort of
Perpetuity that the kindly, spent men teach and the oceans understand.
But the world, he thinks, is not particularly kind. The leaves sweep across
The chasms, the air balls into a fist. He races across a parking lot of
Yellowing, dried-up chances.
And winds up muttering beneath a sooty trestle, oh bring me home now,
Midnight star. Suddenly the demons with the endless party invitations
Rear up, he fights them off with mundane decisions, his tears splash at
Their feet, dumb offerings. He’s crying for some way to become human
In this heat, to drive the song from his heart into his mouth, to drop
Pretenses and evolve into something more than a flesh hunting asshole
Robot. He wonders if he could ever make himself happy, that
Manuals teach as the first step to love. However no one really
Understands this but the earth. Yet the earth is smug and satisfied with
Itself, for love does achieve its purposes, there are billions of us despite
The pain. He lies on the ground in a meadow in the quiet breeze from
The moon that burns his eyes as ludicrous tears fall from them like
The squalor of all his least favorite, loneliest words.