It was thirty days
and the bludgeoning tide took them
soldiers of all heights, weights
varying degrees of manhood
some completely buried
some with gentle wives
Some with ghosts walking door to door
talking of love, light, gentler things
It was all strange
The way they decayed in the bare light stripped them of all humor, memory
those mouths in frozen fear forever
thinking the thoughts that would
categorize them for all days.
I knew one, one day.
He listened to Joy Division and talked
of how Morrissey was a depressed fuck.
How he probably never enjoyed a thing. Even touching a girl in privat-er parts.
We watched a fiber optic flower for the night,
stolen corridors of forlorn
Florida Houses, not yet sold.
(This would determine our juvenile record, you see)
We would forever be remembered by these rebellious acts.
By this fire,
and that theft. We fucking loved
But now sweet- we remember you by the heat and decay
the way you smelled after three days
mouth wider than the Joker,
showing teeth for the enemy
as you both stare into the dark rooms.
The dark rooms We never arrived at simultaneously-
The ones that called your name on any Winter day.
You shouted, dear one.
You shouted without audience.
we dressed for the occasion, you and I.
Pearls and all.