Don Quixote In Hell

Tonight, I ride out

Destroy everything ugly and cruel in the world.

You could find maturity,

among the laughing hyenas, and nodding dogs

and resist the urge to drill down, bore down into this shit.

Move across the surface like a raconteur

And wonder the backstreets at four in the morning, giving

flowers to prostitutes.

Is it a talent for derision that fucks you over?

Whatever, I’ll keep the illusion that my lady love is watching all this from somewhere

when I’m out there, headhunting, gladhandling, feeling the click of a heartbeat in

every wrist I touch.

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2 Responses to “Don Quixote In Hell”

  1. Jenny Says:

    That’s very good.

  2. arparp Says:

    i can see why someone with strong attachments to meaningless abstractions and unworkable metaphors might bristle at the idea of workshoping.

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