Small Moments

Small Moments

It’s one big lump in my brain
so excuse the excess. Politics, religion,
personal air. Prescient shadows,
disarming remarks.

All I recall
from another poem
you were too busy to read
is the mayhem genius
taking great lengths
to insure each guest
has enough scotch tape.

Like Simone snuggling Sartre,
his wife meant the world to him
but this was ten hours overtime.
So, like any nihilist, he unfolds
the parchment feast, unleashing hordes
of still born allegory
and trusses. Breath mints
and anxious cobblers.

It’s a small moment
in an obscure poem
but that doesn’t stop him.
Like all everyday work
it gets done. Usually by guys
w/shit on their shoes
and a paycheck behind.
All those guys we wait for
subjectively. Their small moment,
at hand.


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