Broken glass
and dammits too !
Throw in yells
machine gun words
short-staccato
as vowels blow by
over you

It was your
Easter Sunday
Too beautiful
Two until two
and frustration

Wondering
where in Hell
do I come from
going nowhere
with pockets
full of sharp seconds
cold long and hard

Lock the door
but shut it first
Here asking
which came first . . .
the sun , the moon
or the fool