‘Odds Are’

May 6, 2013

Here’s a man who lives devoid of danger.

No clandestine operations. Just a deep hardness,

and every man he meets remains a stranger.

 

Keeps stiff teeth, his grip clenching daily

like tetanus. The mercy gone, the empathy.

Here’s a man who lives devoid of danger.

 

Awakens slow as honeycomb. Treats coffee cups

like lovers, lick and palm and heavy breath.

Every man he meets remains a stranger

 

for fear, mostly, of revealing too much —

what warm childhoods don’t exist, the dashed dreams.

Here’s a man who lives devoid of danger

 

yet treats his suns as threats, stealing away

villainous and stark. He’s taken away

his name, so all he meet stay dark as strangers.

 

No surprises to know he knows but won’t let on,

the folly in it, the dread, the litany

of sleepwalking a life devoid of anger

and batting all away as leeching strangers.

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