therapist, "idealism
and bunk," and deft jingoism
came in a six pack
labeled WEARING UNDERWEAR
AND A TANKTOP, JACQUES TATI,
Fairy lights on your
bedroom window,
and outside: noir so black
that the femme fatale
could not abide to kiss your jawline
with the stones' razor-edgeful
of soporific. You smile.
It is not so bad a life;
shalom night.
