Nineteenth Century Man Yells at Salesperson
Fin de siècle, for reason
isn’t rational, isn’t real,
bends under pressure,
push, pause, syllogism,
magnet traumas, lazy
bees baking under hot
rays, the end of an era,
for life should press,
should be malleable,
should become realer,
yet I suffer surrender,
even from strangers,
yet I anger reality,
in corners, under a
grate, poor me, sad
me, pitiful me, me
isn’t me, I isn’t I,
decry and lie is I
fin de siècle, for
summer is not mum,
a murmur aloud, a
glamorous sound,
an end again, I yell
through doors now,
and the voice speaks,
back to the front,
forward to and back,
lies aside, next door,
next door, next door,
I’m sorry for ego, I’m
sorry for signs so loud,
for your home proud,
for your game allowed
fin de siècle, for when
an answer is moot, and
your meaning is aloof
eclecticismgunfight 