Another reason why the Chinese deserve to win.

In our silent stupor
we pound them back
like lumberjacks.
I drizzle syrup over rocks
on the stainless altar
of the night's slow demise
placing my emptied glass
on the right
because it's easiest to remember
since that's what I am.
A mnemonic device
they call it.
In my case
a condition
though I'm not the only one.

If you're ever in the market
for a comfortable casket
I have a friend
who'll help you look.
Don't worry about his mirror trick.
It's no different from the way
we'll all disappear.

Mea culpa, Father.
It's not one to stick on the fridge
even if there were
magnets strong enough.
I blame its lack in substance
candor, cadence
on a forestalled morning
cigarette: thank God--
something I can remedy.

For every action there's a loss.


Currently reading:
"Narcissus and Goldmund" by Hermann Hesse.