Automatic #17

Better you than me

it’s an old refrain

something that buckles

or ricochets

to land

in your lap

one morning while headed for

the coffee maker Jake

stops you     touches your arm

and asks about the beautiful woman

who is rising like Venus

from a cubicle.

Later on after

the lights have gone out

and you are the only one that remains

in the whole of this desolate land

you think back fondly

on your origin

how you got from that place

to this place

How after all your years

worthless as a bent penny

you can sit      in the dark

at the end of the world

and smile

thinking of goddesses rising

precariously

from the furniture.

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