26 Oct Pulcinella, or Que Sera
Posted at 23:09h
in Poems
Madamessiole, l’enfer c’est . . . I’m not sure, I couldn’t say
What it means, c’est la vie.
Dressed the nines for ones you love; and double-time, see above,
Either/or philosophy.
A pound of flesh to prevent: everything I never meant,
And all I didn’t want to be.
I’d spill my guts if I had guts, and different days have different ruts,
I bet you knew that already.
Not everything needs a reply, but it feels that way to say goodbye,
Not like you could speak to me.