My Best Brick

My cerebral charm works greatly in my favour

But the inaction of your wit decapitates it and leaves it


Fleeting moments of embracing

Our own shadows

Show how we survived the war

And sank below our quacking self-obsession.


You have not seen that shadow in years

And to touch it would be to hug a mirror

With cracks and black soy dripping

Down to its steaming wall.


Each layer is laid down, as Caesar declared

And so we make a rule of slow

And lazy lolloping down our rhythms.


Your fizzing white wine spritzer caresses

Your black smoking Cerberus,

But it gets hungry and there's no

Chicken salad left.


The End

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