21st Entry

No Revolution

He's broken,
and too soft.
He's too sick
of tying knots.

The old man walks by, cicadas
die beneath the green facade
He's the Tsar, and change
the shooting squad as he walks on drags on
struggles on. That which needs mending,
will be trampled on.

He's too nostalgic
of what's been lost.
He's too dense
to connect their dots.

Now silence is cluttered by his parting words.
His contribution is
not second nor third
(definitely not the first

time this has happened),
'cause his was first
(his words were first),
and is first
to be wiped away.

There's no revolution this time;
he merely looks back
and forward
and recognizes
nothing.

20th Entry

Glancing

They laughed away and
smiled the same, there's
no sign
no change
no tells of any difference -- just as I had left it.
There seems no
need to pro
tect it.

I listened and I
laughed
at jokes and
no one hears.
I am glad
but feel empty
that no one wished me there.

They said the Hi-s and Bye-s and
argued what had to be argued,
blamed what had to be blamed.
They unwrapped all their newest stories,
discussed all the latest headlines,

not a mention of my name.

19th Entry

All Nights

His voice, juicy sweet, in -
vades the tenacitic peace of each of the iambic feet,
they're gone, and there's no coda to our
vodka sodas as he simmers away into the darkness, I'm
Cinderella and tell him I must go,
No see-you-laters, and no,
no, I won't want to have gone
with him after my seventh glass, so sweetly iced,
won't regret each of my decisions, right -
they're right and I'm alone tonight,
and I’ll be alone,
all nights from now.

18th Entry

Lock Cart

Beach sandals and sunfrower seeds.
You liked salmon
smoked, and gradwrapped brie, with
tea ice cold -- the favorite holds,
even through the turning revolving
doors.

Don't cuddle don't dwadle, please
run away, my 'overly-lay.
A single drop of water
won't pierce her heart.

Shame it's a lock cart --
no hope. Please
own up -- please act your part.
Voice your hate or
end the same.
Disgust has no art.