Vainglorious somethings undone by time.
No time for lust or enlightened delusions,
no time for sweaters and scissors and wine,
no time for sex and regrets and seclusion.
All of these mountains and mountains of nothing,
and life expeditions and reasons to climb,
are dross to the flesh and dust to the touch.
A dollar exchanged for a shiny new dime.
Spare me the treasons and rhymes of our youth.
We'll wake to the teeth marks with nothing to say.
We'll sit at the window not wanting the juice—
And tear, like we're dying, for air from the day.
My polymer china porcelain doll,
we'll deck you in finery plucked from the mall.