Fuck a world that continues to take a tax of humanity

Even though

or perhaps

because

all the pieces were falling into place

I still jigsawed across the table top
a scattering

of disjoint

Grey smoke vines
coil from nostrils flared
as the bite of cold coming air
takes hold
and curls the thin threads
around my skull in an aura

a miasma

a warning


Jen is dying

I
found out yesterday
somehow
the way you say it
makes it matter of fact

Like the tap is leaking

Jen is dying
kinda rolls off the tongue
and drools across the floor
to plop against my bare toes

If I step forward
her demise will be a warm wet
feeling beneath me
and I know

my feet will never dry


Fuck a world that continues to take a tax of humanity
from me
its not as if
I have hoards of people
secreted in banks
internet or otherwise
I pay and pay
and still
there is a bill there at the end of each quarter.




Jen wasn't

goddamn past tense

isn't
my favorite person
hardly the point

She is/was
however
a point of reference

if you read the road map of me
you will clearly see her
marked in red on the way
a place of interest
a rest stop
a motel with three star meals

She will pass within a limited time now
like a cream container
clearly marked with use-by indifference
and if you sniff too closely
the cloying scent of
too late
fills you

fills your eyes
tears you up
takes your breath so you hitch a little
seeking air clear
of deaths otherness


Jen was
something concrete
I stood upon
till now

without getting my feet wet.