monday

i know jokes that end themselves eternally--
folks who've slowly learned to slip old
childhood hopes through oiled fingers
and cope--

who read the
slight in hearty laughter
and the gleam of toothy smiles,
sitting by smoldering set dressings
and whispering under the clinks of cloudy drinks.

the forgotten loves that visit my dreams
grin through tears and lose their faiths--
their memories went dry by habit
but their flaws still keep.
i say shame's in loyal's grave;
i'll hold her closely as we sleep--
when sunlight comes she'll just be dust
and i won't need to weep