NINA’S PARTY AT JUDY’S GYM

Funny how these days lounge and flit
past seeming rancor to the fits
of fulsome plan.  I have for long
endured a passion subsumed by all I
see, yet the weaving thins the layer
and the fluted hopes evaporate
in steam.  Nobody launches
except to sail, but lips grow
sedulous, fingers fumble.  How
little to show before a firing squad
of one’s own device takes aim, replies. 
Conversation, not communion, communities,
makes this world glow  lit
but not consumed.

 


 

 


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