some growl
and others
have no time.
But there is the
rare occasion when
through twist of fate
or meeting of minds,
two hands reach out.
One finding the heart
and one relocating
in the crotch.
And, when they leave again
we are left,
strangely befuddled
with the
lingery of
memories.
They stay for a bit, smiling, nodding.
They eat off your table,
they use your name,
they smile, nod and say:
How are you?
Then, one day, after
they have eaten your food,
smelled your roses,
finished your Beaujolais
and slept on your pillow
they wait, until it’s midnight.
And then, they stab you in the back.
Again, and again, and again.
And, if asked the obvious question,
WHY? The will say, after some
initial hesitation…………
NOTHING. That is, my dear friends,
because they have run.
Run to hide in Texas.
In a burrow, where only cowards,
cockroaches and evil spirits hide.
And that is, of course, sadly,
where they belong.
Because they do not have
what makes a normal human being.
Never will have.