Too often, the thing goes thud
and you like it moving away from you
Like the last glacier of the Ice Age,
signaling something coming but you don't know what.
It doesn't really matter, you say anything
is more party than this mess around your neck,
More kick in the gut than this pat on the rump.
Your image is covertly plotted.
Pretend you're jaded to seem intriguing.
Don't twist an eyebrow, reveal no marvel,
let the common thrill someone else.
You go to the ends of the earth to prove there is an edge.
You don't step over the limit but feign
that you always do to seem smoother than you really are.