eternal enemies, i think i found him
disquieted as a man can be, he thinks
but in the now not the then and perhaps
not the tomorrows: it hurts to be so
a moment there, another glossed over
like if there were real enemies at the
gate (it is important to note that the gate
is rented) these enemies destroy him
destroy us, destroy our moments for
they are more real to him than my hand
these forgotten souls who do no more
to him than enrage his thoughts, while i
sit, listen, and watch, beer in hand and wonder if i could make a pie