the way a baby loves
to look around
after it has
just fallen down
to make sure its mother is
paying attention.
*
Our preferred form
of diversion
is a pleasure
deferred—
a day
without timestamps;
a poem
without all the troublesome
words;
a "referred" pain
as an analgesic
substitute for the real thing.
("Better them
than us," we exclaim.)
We like our
soft feelings
like we like our hard truths:
registered across town
in seedy hotel rooms
under nom de plumes.
*
We are not into
"pushing the easy button."
We are into regretting
easy buttons don't exist.
