22.11.21 - 1:45 p.m.

like the tide, jo, once it turns,
and mine has. we are all jo until
like a red cellophane fish on a warm
wet palm our future crinkles and rolls
to reveal what it always was, no german
lover, no hard won fortune but a few songs
played poorly on an out of tune piano then
receding, slowly, to delirium.