Fuzzy Circles
Brooding, waiting to cross correct
the poem that ran out of ink
has a deep, rich backstory
you can dance to and
a new last line
I’m rather enthralled by.
(remember us the better who we are)
Humor is essential
given the times we’re in.
Blue tarps bungeed
along the East River.
Shiftless study
pursued w/o looking.
Self made men
(and women, beleaguered)
Holding the venom between us,
your American recollection
differs from mine. I get it.
I just can’t cotton how
you get from A to B
w/o God, the cartographer,
drawing fuzzy circles.
(and the skies are not cloudy all day)