Sometimes I write poems. Here is the first in a series, collectively titled, Oh, Loiterer. This one I wrote today while watching Blanka Vlasic, Croatian Oympic high jumper. The poem doesn’t really have anything to do with sports, though, or Croatia. It is called, "Into the Fat After." Grammarians be advised that there is some deliberate ungrammatical usage in the poem.
Into the Fat After
You wish I went to the mountain
And dedicated it to you
When all was hierarchical and
And an instinct for salvation purged the mind of dross.
I laughed at your sex's little unguarded follies,
Wandering cuttle-fish of life.
Man, whose convulsions are squelched
Under these long days
That, like a pacifier,
We forever suck on like babies?
See the once-bounding gaiety slink away
As we’re left to pass, together, through today
And into other days,
Where other systems will administer
The evening’s racing through the city
Bluer than any bluefish,
Through the demystified music and solitude
Commonly known as “adulthood”?