…………………………………………………….A poem is never finished, only abandoned
…………………………………………………………..–Paul Valery
In a downtown daze I trolled among towers
reeking of success, rising proudly into the sky,
and between them found an alley of orphans,
all my incomplete gestures, children
who made and dismayed me, never found
a home in my heart.
They fled the disregard
to which I condemned them, banded together,
unselfishly shared their pain
and painkillers,
and admired each others deformities.
They tattooed my ink into their fists
and waited, one-eyed and one-armed,
(the eye full of spite, the arm heavily armed),
hoping that the globe really turns and brings everything around,
and that if they remain still it will deliver me,
meaning their maker, to them
for a vengeful rendezvous,
and would I please, sir, stop for a moment?
My friends and I would like a word.


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