Yeah, it’s happened for a long time…
I don’t know which thief gained first access.
The Jack of Hearts? Or the King of Clubs…
those dudes dogged my footsteps
and stuck to me like
rabid paparazzi, snapping, clicking…
…and fracking, injecting me
with insistent agendas and curses.
They smell my weak places,
with x-ray eyes
they trap my heart with maps.
Except in their world,
I am not round, but flat,
and they fear my edges.
Probes, from eyes, from words,
from thought and greedy thirst
force their way in, and in, and then
pressure, violent floody-assaults,
on my detailed and nuanced delicate soul.
After awhile, the floods drain,
God only knows where, and leave
me blared and blasted,
blue and without blossom,
defenseless and without means
to coalesce again.
Then they suck me dry,
of my luscious dreamy
verve and dance.
They smack their lips,
hitch up their pants,
and strut away
without a glance.
in a fearful trance.
And I think again about the word
and listen hard for echoes
of its dead and beautiful promise.