I think I've grown a little tired of apologizing for the stupidities of some men, so apologize for myself because I'm the only one who can.
Something of Man
I have placed no thoughts inside a box
to pray for sight of Man, what we
were and could be condemned to ride
the yellow light of cabs while women
haunt the sidelines sitting back counting
the revolving Johns and Smiths who
sometimes try to be but are not enough
As you search for happiness I know I’ll
stay without, half despairing lost inside
a bottle, smoking cigarettes by the carton
My sisters place their hands on their brother
but nothing bruises concrete, a mausoleum
filled with white carnations, decaying letters
and promises that spit into the eye like
camels, we that’s left commiserate about
friends we lost to drink and hate and women
we tried to love and lost to our own ways.
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