The pavement seeps
into my bones, but I grin
through the stupor.
Knowing better, confident to
pace the red brick and
bear it, I gaze on vacant streets,
illegible sidewalks. Yet I am cursed
by mobs.
Disperse the ingrates, the ignoble
bastards! Before they run
riot, before you cower,
weak-kneed, into
the mounting drifts!
Leisure and love affairs
do not await, nor long island ice teas,
only this balding oaf, with
bad teeth.
At his door, I wait until
we bite our lips, until the city
is stirred to submission, pallor-faced,
and our trails are erased
no sooner than we lay them,
without mercy. And the torch I saw
yesterday, on the western horizon?
Extinguished. The chalice I
raised to her, in good spirits?
Empty.
I hope he leaves
a decent tip.
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