Crossing the Double Yellow

Longer days with looming light
giving reason not to sleep
though he's ginned and catatonic.
Spitting on streets was illegal once.

A mother confides her woes
asks her only son to pray.
He can't lift words to gods
he's sworn off like friends in debt.

His stance on the masses:
Brake when they're passing.
There's no reason now for rushing
to other worlds than this.

Conspirators cast out
like merchants from the temple.
It was comfortable and easy
like missionary
like taking one on the starboard side
like her tenderest of parts
that tasted of grapefruit
and are gone now.

And are gone.

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