the Peppercorns

Dinner plate denuded
of nutriment, but
plinking out with buckshot.

Where, like, the game fowl's a foal
or something equally reasonable
to eat.

I do not know what buckshot
is made of; is it still lead?
but eating it can't be good.

How if this were a conditional statement
you would be an actuary,
if this were a bowlful of black peppercorns

you would be the peppercorns.

Youth

Oh my God do I admire him
for whom youth still holds inexplicable thinness.

And may be that still ignorant
of ignorance but increasingly

knowing the little things of sweetness
is an adulterating force.

How education once was paramount,
but a staid eventuality, now

is atrophied; very, very tired; something
as fantastically wished for as respite.

And you, yet, may crush on the math tutor
have a wardrobeful of tee-shirts

and not relish anything.