To see, seem.
Gentility
these
times of inequity
in retrograde.
You have grown
the funereal beard too,
and made it through
the stoic summer
in a tank top.
I am sweating
like a fat friar in two cassocks.
I have vanquished the cilice of thought
and still wear it.
I have been promised "Live forever
in sexual idyllics!"
and if in consequence
he eunuch,
still with the appraising glance
we both know.
