A few rings and there is
no more up, two by fours and
two by sixes, the cobwebbed rails
the garage door runs on and
smooth concrete below. The climb
comes honestly, the heart run
its rabbity circles out,
the head little more than decorum.
Chase and chase the race is ruined,
the by and by gone bye-bye,
the baby with the bath. Daylight
through the desperate shadowed night,
power cord halo, dire
silhouettes and sad circumstance—
all these awful years for nothing.
Heaven or hell right there for the taking,
foot after hand and the rickety rise
done with a kick and a clatter,
the conversation over in
too bads and told you sos,
the intention fixed and finished,
all the words never worth
a goddamn thing.
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