Trumpets and Whiners

Trumpets and whiners, not lacking in courage
make themselves heard, loud – never clear;
Upperclass and dropped glass,
vodka litters a powdered floor;
remember when:
	we rushed through Munich’s door?
What choices I have made,
since I was not able to choose…
for Frank, I hold onto a pair of shoes:
Pistol Pete’s green and blue;
Adidas were never you -
Who will come
to burials too far away?
What would they wear,
what would they say?
“he would’a said, ‘not today’”

and not today is all the other days,
before and after:
	sitting on the stairs
	of the neighborhood church
	with a sign that reads:
	“god doesn’t love you
	because of your happiness.
	Remember:
	The first shall be last”
and when we got drunk,
waiting for the anarchist book store
to open in Baltimore,
was everyday before and after.

All the
broken-hearted-ness of Everyday,
failed the laundry once again,
the boring-ness of conversations
repeated,
	repeated,
		repeated…
in Genesis, it says there is nothing new under the sun,
it just takes a lifetime to experience;
and those of us with accelerated ambitions
are doomed to see the patterns
over and over again and again.