The plump moon lights up my room.

My mind is now a flat graph
no desire no lust no dream

the cold winds from the rumbling sea
make no dent on me
I look at my palms
and see the cracked floor
gnarled roots of mangrove on the wall
blend seamlessly with all I have
like once I had her in this room
love together
taking wingless flight to the moon
but now I more like sitting here
prospecting no words to rhyme
not angered at the blankness
for in this vacuous moonlight
I wait without a hope of gain
without a despair of loss
unconstrained for time
contoured by fireflies
alone
recounting a new beginning
from the end.

Living at hard angles,
the hemophilac in the razor blade factory
a diabetic making chocolate,
the alcoholic cooking with vanilla

A car running out of oil
in the great Mojave Desert
broke down,
while heading to Paradise, Nevada

Life at hard angles,
hard to get started
hard to get around

Rent gas water, electric insurance garbage,
car needs tires, internet phone
food
whose ever screaming the loudest
bank accounts have been known to go to zero

Cry all night

We're going to hold on to each other tight
it's all temporary
Even when you're sleeping hard
living at hard angles.