Draco and Hunter were both on attack,
Taking aim at the glaring emerald wanderer
While a jet plane's blinking lights connected
The belt to the bow to the jaws and gone.
Out there on the recursive road to nowhere,
I was rooting for it rather than against it.
I want what is not me to win, but I want
To be there to see it, which I can't be
Unless I don't get what I want and it
Doesn't win, and then I remain to witness
Its or my futility. We don't want that, now,
Do we? It's bad enough to spit in the eye
Of the gods of odds, but to dismiss even
The fully divisible as risible fictions
Is the quickest way to become a fiction
Oneself. I was a body who had no chance
And therefore chanced to wrestle with what
Could not possibly be pinned down
By anyone, anyway, least of all me.
Why not then? Because I knew I was leaving
One hell of a mess once I left my innocence
To pretend I could step into the air without
Succumbing to the gravity that offended me.
Others who still had that innocence were
Too close to me and would have to fall
After me or teeter on the brink long years
Of their own, wondering, how could that me
Do that to this me? Hesperus, protect those
From the madness that infected me, though
I know you won't. I know we all rise and shine
Then sink behind our temples and drown.
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