You let me talk on end till I sober up
enough to ask the important questions
like whether or not beauty is at its best
deliberate or accidental (the look on your
face suggesting one of us must be stranded
on shore) and I ask because I don’t think
your god deserves credit for sunsets, or
walk-off home runs, or something your
parents did together in attempt to keep
the magic going – a process they were
told not to enjoy too much.
Evening Panoply 