love & all mysteries
(or most of them)
a little fuzzy
from the three-dollar beer.
Why not, on a Tuesday night?
So I proclaim
face still flushed
with the house red:
We deserve to be
ecstatic !
Ecstatic ! (they echo)
all the time? You can't
mean that, you
t w e n t y - f i v e.
We speak openly,
the wheels
suitably oiled,
we have loosened collars,
left off filters.
Still I watch us
turn ever-opaque eyes in,
attempt to screech curtains shut
discrete, lightning-quick.
I watch histories shift, asking,
inventory-taking
each life:
have I ever been?
Have I ever been?
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