too much too little too fattoo thinor nobody. laughter ortears haterslovers strangers with faces likethe backs ofthumb tacks armies running throughstreets of bloodwaving winebottlesbayoneting and fuckingvirgins. an old guy in a cheap roomwith a photograph of M.
Monroe. there is a loneliness in this world so greatthat you can see it in the slow movement ofthe hands of a clock people so tiredmutilatedeither by love or no love. people just are not good to each otherone on one. the rich are not good to the richthe poor are not good to the poor. we are afraid. our educational system tells usthat we can all bebig-ass winners it hasn't told usabout the guttersor the suicides. or the terror of one personaching in one placealone untouchedunspoken to watering a plant. people are not good to each other.people are not good to each other.people are not good to each other.
I suppose they never will be.
I don't ask them to be. but sometimes I think aboutit. the beads will swingthe clouds will cloudand the killer will behead the childlike taking a bite out of an ice cream cone. too muchtoo little too fattoo thinor nobody more haters than lovers. people are not good to each other.perhaps if they wereour deaths would not be so sad. meanwhile I look at young girlsstemsflowers of chance. there must be a way. surely there must be a way that we have not yetthough of. who put this brain inside of me? it criesit demandsit says that there is a chance. it will not say"no."This poem was published in "Love is a Dog From Hell".
