the night before p1

this began with a vague ambition, intentions
on the lam, a hidden spree always triangulating.
it was the immigrants or the icemelt or gramma
weeding roses in deep winter, the winter wouldn't


 let spring get on with it wouldn't  let
babes wander his receeding snowline,
reapplied propecia packs until well into april..
we couldn't do a thing,  all seasons have narcissistic

tendiencies but winter trumps them all
with the icy bitch face, the plan spoiler blizzards
the oversepping boundaries into southern places
 he shouldn't be seen . always wearing a coat and hat

insisting you do too--here this white one fits,
 put in on. put it on PUT IT ON. a real
 justnomother in law. but if winter's dad,
then spring's the mother, exposing the births.


*


 tropical clime is my habitat. the spring
pansies are golden haired, brown eyed and thirsty.
we're spared rain for the tourists. i think it has something
to do with the chemtrail contrails overhead but we

will never learn. just another contheorcy tm. and i feed
into tradmarking new coinages that limit the bandwidth
of meaning. sitting here on my podium, a fidget spinner
with a seat, like neat how can i get one of those, padded

like the cell i barely missed when i started 
this fool's journey through the tarot of life. i stopped
reading the cards when i met you. something about us
seems already told anyway, but i want to let each

disappointment be a surprise, each broken promise
a revelation, every expectation dismissed, the volt
of reality should pierce my heart at the last minute
all hope a scuttled ship, and let me slip

into goodbye with no life jacket, third time down.

re