horses move with feeling around the track
but you and I do not notice;
fingers poke our feelings back inside
but the horse do not notice;
casual sex has left us too empty
to even want to participate in the race,
our feelings as dead as the sea scrolls;
our flesh sweats as that of a race horse
that no drizzle of rain can cure,
we have abandoned the race
just as we have abandoned each other;
we curse each other’s namejust as loudly as we curse our own;
we have no friends to entertain
no parents to impress with witty euphemisms,
we have no cares or worries now
and certainly no horses in this race.
July 11, 2012
From the Cannot Sleep Poem Series - #2
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