in this day n' age
& my God, by midweek
that's just enough for a foothold
Trucks & trains & the dark
& the cold & the smell of gas
& these thoughts of you
A shudder when I think of
what I can't help
Up again & onward
a toolkit inside
made of flesh
& the magic that set it in motion
Distractions on my shoulders
running on poisons
These various triumphs
Are perfectly brief
Away out here
there's a simple,
deep affection
for you
that lives in me
& cannot be destroyed
by my mouth
or the cares of the world
