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when the drunks
have passed out
when stillness has taken
the hollow day
captive
and
darkness has given way
to blackness
the street lamps
hum low like
electric crickets
the engines in the
distance roll like
the pacific
and
the lonely find
companionship in
their dreams
but
the raccoons still
rummage like
raccoons
the rain still
sounds like
two-faced regret
and
there is still no
roof over the
mountains
and with that said –
i am stricken with
sorrow to testify
that even in this
radiant hour
very little has changed
she bent over my crying
body and asked casually
"have you had enough"
and i had
then she packed
her things
and departing
sparked the middle
finger
five years in concert
and i haven't
seen her since
a pity to confess
i adored her once
but
this is how it works
you love until you detest
you're right until you're amiss
you're strong until you're fragile
you're alive until you're flat
you're there until you've vanished
and i wish i would have known –
the beginning inferred the end
that pleasure only
led to pain
that scruples are only are useful
in times of peace
that the mind is a awfully
callous tool
i wish this
and that
and more
and fewer
but since i've already begun this race of iniquity –
i have no choice but to wait until
the unavoidable finale
Ānanda Selah Ösel lives in Seattle where he write poems, rides his bike, and consumes large quantities of cheap red wine. You can read more poems by him at www.ananda-osel.com.