Ungloved
Being in one place too long,
being in one form to long,
never being able to tolerate a blank page,
or empty air,
for fear of what someone else
will put in it if you don't
Wanting to feel safe, surrounded by enemies
who call themselves friends
A white knight dreamer in purgatory
edged on an endless field of victims
with hands outstretched.
A stereotypical Madonna
white in a field of gray
A wick less, often witless, foil
of coils of gray matter around things
which matter not at all.
Making acquaintances,
cloaking them in the garb of friendship
even while they toss sticks
on the pyres of the all life.
For what after all is a friend...
Who after all can truly know
as each of us confront and are confronted
by our own hells
and hope without much hope
for the outstretched hand to be ungloved
and touch the skin of our lives.
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