Friday, February 27, 2009

Cleaving Vichyssoise


we’re born—to die
we come and go—like ships
ghost ships passing—in the night

we come—into this world
alone—and buck-naked, baby
we leave—the same way

in between—we’re alone
even with lovers—we’re alone
but all of us—in the same boat?

it doesn’t—make sense
every day—a ship of fools
every night—titanic deja-vu

each day—vichyssoise
best served cold—dontchaknow
death for me—soup du jour…

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