Observations
To observe once is a blessing.
To observe twice, doubly more.
Thrice is pushing your luck too far,
and four times is much too much;
Much, too much to
mourn.
Four times is worse,
four times a curse,
four times so clever in
view and in pleasure.
The fourth time you see
the way things truly are:
the syrup dripping from
the table in such a perfect
pile.
Copacetic in nature,
sweet, sweet denial.
The fourth time you’ll know,
in body and soul, that you’ve
been given a pretty thing only
for it to be taken away.
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