Gnats

GNATS


Now I’m going to tempt my bones
with this Chablis.

So, you just keep on circling
that orange tin jack-o-lantern.

Somehow I’ve a feeling my French companion
won’t go unnoticed by you.

What kind of sensibility
do you have, anyway,
that you desire to backstroke
on my chilly goblet of solitude
this third week of April?

A celebration?
A birthday of sorts?
One measured in minutes?

Or perhaps it’s just your passionate nature
in general,
your Immanentist lifestyle?

From what I can see
you must possess a Rimbaudian sensibility,
one that causes you to plunge head-first
into this French wine, diving below her
deep waist of stopped clocks.

I guess that makes you
more human than I cared to realize.


Alan Britt

Posted over on Strange Road