The Interstate Circadian Rhythm

Dec 31

For I was none the wiser to a fate predestined

Nor none the richer in soul

as thine hath departed

Buried in the pews of the cellar amongst our

“______” begotten sinners

My fingers danced Tchaikovsky north of your

spinal arteries

I..II…III….IV

Fifteen minutes south of Nassau

Where the expressway led to that which intended

In exact sacrosanctity your plague came upon

solely us who could not see

nor lead

Absolute self-piety strung from your guitar

Flagellated then Crucified

Awaiting the resurrection of your ideals personified

unbecoming, undeserving, undying

Aristophanes of the 22nd Century

persona non grata at the gates of the Lord

Thursday Mourning Fires