Peddler's Grief

i do the simple math. absent faces spare the bones. petulant thieves taste the art. the perpetuity of want. searing buoyant flesh.

i leave the time machine running. as i stumble to locate the past. empty wrappers and chewed gum. sincere, but hard spent.

i measure the distance. in burns and abrasions. all my scales weighted.

the choices are loud. but i don't listen.

we hum. fiercely electric. we pretend. that the end doesn't know how to find us.

rolling on the careless tilt. of vanity and lust. poor merchants peddling second hand happiness.

there are no entrances. only exits.

i don't bother asking what it means. the counting is enough.

how far. how deep.

spreads the insatiable chasm. between the beginning and the end.