In him, he sees your value,
Indeed you are a prized possession
And in submission to desire
There is much love; more concession.
I am at audition, whose greatest part
Has been to unbalance the apple cart.
But, this — in 2012 — is familiar soil
Where five apples for 100 you get
In the carbided reality of faked belief:
Though couched they are, shoe-shined; wet.
The theater is dark, and in its empty light
You refuse the curtain to refuse me sight.
So, you saunter, make love, you let the world
Pass by in their blinding spree
And you disengage — satisfied — and I
Watch. Your resonant soliloquy.
Godlike, where I stand, my prophetic eyes severe
Unblink of things that pass; that are past; are near.