39

THEY SHOOT HORSES DON'T THEY

a forehead intense with thought

burdened by unfinished gestures

a sense of urgency

lines deep and crossed

obsession posession confession

idealized and romanticized

she lights a future bright

brutal blues

pay alienation dues

a player of night

an angel of dark delight

maybe I love you

she's too beautiful

I'm too bold

put me out of my misery

before I grow old