I sent you letters telling you I'd be away. I suppose overhead, the eagles circled
And underground, the mice whimpered. I hewed a fine profile into the rocks
Or delegated the profile. No job was too unseemly. There used to be boundaries
But I was mysteriously cured in the south. We rounded a cape and saw no more
Of civilization. In my apocalyptic vision, nothing changed. I went to the tropics
And blended in with the hordes. I was constantly undermining expectations
With a cough and a hiccup. Brandished a broomstick. There's a common fallacy
That what you hear makes good evidence. Am I too young to be disenchanting?
On the mountaintop an arrow points somewhere. This hill or that one. Gestural
As what I was saying, whereas this happened before. Those infamous ladies
Are whispering about your figure. They give their skirts a whirl and scoff
Into the veldt. It's easy to be judgmental but how about imagining growing up
Without technology to intervene. An endless amount of walking in the country
Couldn't make up for this afternoon. Whose work involved mere sitting?
If I knew, I'd tell you. The prettiness of me could generate a way to conceal
My bafflement at everything I witnessed during the end as I felt this must be
If it wasn't an experiment in factoids left behind by vulgar opportunists.
Late at night, I decided. I wrote down a set of observations on the violets of
The third world. If I was going to surrender, then I would do it with a style
High and careworn. I'll trade you a cigarette for a story. When we sunk
I was elated. Already I had done what I set out to do, had a bit of fun with a
Terrible aftertaste. No, you're right, it won't work out, but yes, it can't be tested.