Partisan Objections

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Partisan Objections


I remember years of grief
before the joy began.

Long before the moon dug her
rhinoceros horn
into dawn’s sultry thighs
spread-eagle across my rooftop.

I remember days
we’d all like to forget.

Candy cane bell-bottoms
outlined by Long Island fog
don’t even begin
to tell the whole truth.

Too many after-hours aperitifs,
I suppose, at
favorite Italian restaurants.

Seems there’s been a discovery
on Quasar Five.

Time to resign my life
(such as it is)
over to the black tuft of bouvier fur
stretched across
the basement’s Burberry carpet.

But, god, as we travel
below these clouds,
fueled by lithium kisses,
we pass desperately close
to my partisan objections.

Alan Britt

Posted over on Ken Again