Is that you again, standing next to me?

Wearing last night's dress, missing a button.

Rolling through the city like some big lie

moves the traffic this side of the freeway.

Wouldn't we be better off in three hours?

Wouldn't you have some of what you came for?

Aren't you looking ahead much too far?

These years come off with a drink and a shower,

and the choir observing a song of praise,

and in words, in acts, living in defiance,

no longer shadows of our professions,

and drifting in the say-no-more of beasts,

made undone, except for laughter and sleep.

 originally published in TheInquisitiveEater