Out of the cloudy liquid
comes joy--a pure, admirable feeling
then there is the gravely
turn of the wheel
over the restless, buried dead
you're led down that familiar path
from your childhood,
to the end of the cul de sac
a retreat into a lonely,
reassuring place.
We're blessed with everything
but everything is never enough
and how do we explain
regression?
the drink on the table
empty--go fill another glass
cigarettes in the new jacket pocket
five more until daybreak
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