highness

Biting down on my bravado 

with red wine lips; 

staggering against the palimpsest cess pit:

(We've been here before) 

and

we've been here before.

She says, afraid of old

I tell her: it's fine out here.

She wants the tick, the trick--

and has it; both.

I, unheard... 

As with the four point triangle: I am still.

Quiet. 

There's no right to motion when she sings you of alone.

I understand nobility, Ella

and it's a furious dilemma:

gloriously outward and overdrawn,

eight dollars declined and inclined for something more

than pills back-lipped and waiting games.

The collision of souls reincarnate to time itself

for we are not living, but we have lived -- thanks to approval 

and soft, dull patting of all ten digits

whack, whack into each other

like some multi-impaired sea creature.

But you're right about the rough:

for when we are good, we have good.