Thrill of a Romance
It's different when you have hiccups. 
Everything is--so many glad hands competing 
for your attention, a scarf, a puff of soot, 
or just a blast of silence from a radio. 
What is it? That's for you to learn 
to your dismay when, at the end of a long queue 
in the cafeteria, tray in hand, they tell you the gate closed down 
after the Second World War. Syracuse was declared capital 
of a nation in malaise, but the directorate 
had other, hidden goals. To proclaim logic 
a casualty of truth was one. 
Everyone's solitude (and resulting promiscuity) 
perfumed the byways of villages we had thought civilized. 
I saw you waiting for a streetcar and pressed forward. 
Alas, you were only a child in armor. Now when ribald toasts 
sail round a table too fair laid out, why the consequences 
are only dust, disease and old age. Pleasant memories 
are just that. So I channel whatever 
into my contingency, a vein of mercury 
that keeps breaking out, higher up, more on time 
every time. Dirndls spotted with obsolete flowers, 
worn in the city again, promote open discussion.
                        We publiceren alleen reviews die voldoen aan de voorwaarden voor reviews. Bekijk onze voorwaarden voor reviews.