Addiction

8/23/21

Habits live on like an addiction
But this time there’s no prescription.
Why would God make us this way?
As if a fix could solve a day.
Dead during their conception,
pulled down by a complexion,
An addiction floats by —
a zeppelin.

By some stroke of luck —
it burns,
with St. Marie’s lesson —
I learn
it's only I,
I churn.

But I go back,
I do.

It all feels so bad too.
Like I could control you?
As if I ever knew.
A knot ties itself,
and never comes back.

Way back I had it,
then I fell with the chinet.
He took from her kit
and I could think: huh.
I dropped the ball.
His wide-eyed gull.
Still in my eyes.