...before the eternal worm devours connecticut
one will cycle through the stages of grief
as though one is trapped in a revolving door

two will lock eyes with immemorable combination
reprise themselves of their situation;
i meant "recuse", sorry, although - sadly
the former would not take me aback

three will kick the bucket
but only into the pouring rain
the torrential downpour of one's errant brain
to catch the storm in an endless black

but it boils down to the one, who -- utterly defeated -- says to the other:

"you know me less than you know yourself, and that's saying something"