Sunday, February 14, 2010

existential crisis #74

I am not a werewolf
not some crabby lycanthrope stumbling around the woods with his tie undone
getting his paw caught in the jaws of a foothold trap
foaming at the mouth
younger than pleased
I am not a car accident victim
shot full of radiation and tincture of opium
possibly caged
more than likely roaming somewhat
still passably unclear
I am not listening
I am understanding that
fangs will have to do
where there is no more place for tears
sip rainwater from my footprints in the mud
while I claw at the shadows
of a moon that’s nothing but full
silver will never
be the death of me