IN THIS TIME OF CRISIS
we raise a glass to you
and your narrow-hipped swagger
your unflinching blue eyes your half-smile
your pacing on porches your small cups of comfort
the bile rising your steady hands your
swift feet ready to flee crime-scenes as yet
undiscovered your quick
violence your sordid past your
unwashed sheets and naked pillows
your heap of bathtowels your bravado
your sly flirtations and notes passed in the dark
your aversion to dark places and papercuts
the pretty faces you are quick to kiss and quick
to forget your stacks of paper, your infinite lists
your unreadable handwriting your bluster
the whole of the impossibly invulnerable you
who rarely smokes who has memory only at midnight
who cannot burn away sleep who takes pills
and photographs all the houses on the street
in the dark without a flash because the soft
edges and yellow cast comforts
your heart which beats too slowly and
therefore has sentenced you to
immortality
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