the cement shoes of time

Of trimmed euphorbias, the ghosts of intimacy

and sudden mirrors

of so many episodes of Christmas

were spent on the fringes of a life

once tolerated but

now lived.

Of passions and artistic bents unchained

the anticipation of the unrealized

the brutally naked words erupting

cutting a swath

parting the wavelength

and incinerating

the vibe.

What of fucking around

and not finding out?

of what’s already known

and how dues are paid,

taxes of the flesh evinced,

and about the price of admission,

the debt of refusal,

the albatross of shame,

putting all your chips on the table

committing mind, soul, and sin

In the name of atonement

how base that is,

set in the cement shoes

of time.