He decided to quit everything
Nothing happening
The root of all cul de sacs
Chubby cheeked kids giving reference
To what is good and cute in life
Suggesting family court
Or some bucket of therapy
The suggestive smell of eggs
Or rotten yogurt
All the things to get used to
Scientific names for our shoulder shrugs
Loosening boot straps and morals
Letting lustre go limp and catty
This is the road to deliverance
This is your final programming
A break or vacation setting you right
Dividing your sanctions into sections
Sucking out the pulp
Like so many split Valencias
Adjusting what can be shifted
Pinning other things to the wall
Leaning other things still
This is how to fake an existence
In this way he actively participated
All the while in this constant state of giving up
In so much as the end justifiably smothers the means
Trojan horses sit empty, rotting
No minute hand for starters
The ones that lost their way
Led by some diminishing focal point
The square root of zero, cul de sac
We drove into the sunset smashed on gin
Kicking dust up in front of hitchhikers
The gas would only get us so far
Sometimes a perfectly timed crash
He shaved for the last time
Put tissue on his face for the last time
Kissed everyone goodbye
He snuck out of the giant steed
The towns with round roads
Let their boys be cheerleaders
Let their girls play rugby
And reviewed the sanctions
All this is to say
Your end is some good and cute joke
Your chubby pulp and rotten yogurt
A vacation that quits and goes limp
--
8.5.09
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