I'm Sorry I Love You Said The King

The fog's already burned off, he declares it's to ripen the figs.  I'd rather not say. Causality.
Miles and miles of tossed and torn plastics, miles and miles of one after another.  Pharmacies next
to butchers, beauty shops alongside old tires. Laborers, Syrian refugees.
There's just no plan, all so random as if time has finally taken over and won.  Here in the wake
at the back of the boat.
Cancer is killing everyone.  One at a time by the dozens.  The run-off is in the gutter, part animal and some of it fog, the color of gray in hell.
One ice cream truck interrupts the maghreb every single day. You can almost hear the change falling from their pockets as they rise from the rugs.
I'm sorry the sky stops there, holds down the putrid steam below as night turns figs into fall.


Near final revision:

I'm Sorry I Love You Said The King

The fog's already burned off. He declares it is to ripen the figs. I'd rather not say. Causality.

Miles and miles of tossed and torn plastics, miles and miles of one after another. Pharmacies next to butchers, beauty shops alongside old tires. Laborers, Syrian refugees.

There's just no plan, all so random as if time has finally taken over and won. Here in the wake at the back of the boat,

cancer is killing everyone. One at a time by the dozens. The post-coital run-off is in the gutter, part animal and some of it fog, the color of gray in hell.

The same ice cream truck interrupts the maghreb every day. You can almost hear the change falling from their pockets as they rise from the rugs.

I'm sorry the sky stops there, holds down the putrid steam below as night turns figs into fall.