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.