Sunday with Dave: Disingenuous

The lie is moot,
I haven’t claimed as far
as the gross expects,
sprints and cuts,
this life has a chronology
breaking at the edges,
the screening of half-hearted passes
from a lustful conglomeration,
the trees hide so delicately
the zones wherein the lesson
is just to get out of the door,
I don’t know the rest,
this poem could end otherwise
and I wouldn’t have to read it,
still the conscious emotings
in a loop of agile glottals,
it has nothing to do with either,
nor a third,
just the question
how will it be salvifified,
this coming and going,
that must exceed the multitudes
forced to participate and be
jacked off,
the poring over rates and results
as if we could close on a binge,
arriving to hear
you’re no longer needed
but do come back,
I had a normal day,
this writing is not motivated by any personality,
still there are facts
who know the spin of this,
the reportage, proximity makes it
seemingly smooth in its shred,
what is uncertain is whether
the shivering will let loose.

© Dave Arenas “Disingenuous” 8/10/2004
© Dave Arenas “Disingenuous” Short Stack Story Time 2015

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