#38

Should I coolly cascade up the stairs
and meet him.

Should I throw down our faces
and our wits
or should I not.

Should I buy the beer
and frost a heart
as one would a glass.

Should I sift the sawdust
for the diamonds that lay there.

Should my elbow be more
mahogany than bone.

Should she behind the bar
know my eyes and my limit.

Should I pass
to the rest room
flush the handled john
even though it wasn’t used.

Should I eat
with napkin folded in my lap

Should I palm the spoon.

Should I slip the peas into my sleeve.

I am afraid to smile
as I might be a crocodilian thing
and my laugh
a howl at the moon.

Will I shake his hand.
I think that I could not.

How could I be so bronze
when all my blood is hot wax
my ankles so well turned.

How might I enjoin a man
that sings a melody
I once hummed.

How should I tie my shoes
be clean as a new ass.
Oh, should I or
should I not.

How could I meet him
and not
hold her hand to long.