For A Pushy Woman on Her Existential Birthday

The layman on his couch,
whining away his salary
to the bored and polished pate behind him

he knows in his words and spaces more than he lets on–

the tug and pull of the many faces that inform this carnival of memories.

The pause, the guile,
that seeking searching look
to come unravel motives written
stylish human books.

Meaning? Punch line is more appropriate
as each dappled cathedral evening
tolling the birth of the world,
of the lithe and female fortunes
coming undone and unfurled

begs of the birds, in their warble far afield
to echo human vanity and immortal
cravings for the real.

Shrouded eyes are ours to forever be
and clouded come unstuck
searching futures in our memories.

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