There’s madness in the word
Touching, leaving the feeling
Then pulling away just so
There’s a taunt inherent in the poem
Even in midst of the worst one ever, one is so near
And it works the other way around as well.
Even the ones held closest in all our hearts
Flit about, with inherent flirtation
Surrendering to only the briefest examination
The explanation that denies anything at all tangible
The brief taunting touch and away it flies home
To some quantum un-definable non-actual existence.
And we laugh a life
Expressed as the brief painful smile.
Love comes through as self pity
And all life is golden even while
Dragging itself through the swamp
And nothing in this word is lifeless
And no wonder can not have the life of it
Sucked out at some future time
In a poem, or a speech, or a word of reprove and disdain
At the end it is all so different
And all so the same