Ding, Dong
I was all agog with
Ding-dong bells loosed inside my
Dull cranium spinning with plans to
Wed in May or February or September and
What have you, all.
She was/is my Strindberg girl, Ms. Julie,
Not unlike a summer’s day who
Does not like thieves I swear.
Bring me to the altar of God
I am 22.
I’ll swear yes until they make me a corpse ascending beyond the
Lonely stratosphere I
Would to the ice cream shop for
A cherry vanilla
Because tomorrow I hook up,
I, the fool, the jester,
Defying, all.
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