The Legislator Gives You a Dirty Look When You Make Eye Contact With Him While Shopping at the Supermarket

Stone splitter
Alone and bitter
Rapt in a daze
Thinking words are
Lumps of clay
Like grave markers.

You eyeball me from a stake,
from a law room with chirping
birds and squeaking questions
that only beg for confessions

Whence the frowning pain
that chirps and hates?
Where to escape the rain of flame
that showers the bottom,
where vagrants huddle because
they ignored your governing?

Your floating eyes fixed the gaze with
which you saw juniper and elm and cedar
clothing themselves on what’s been spent.
And now the deed that bleeds and stains
with whiskey eyes and a heavy breath
hoes the song along in your head.

You give random people a dirty stare and wonder
What’s happened to the I’s of words in the head
and the songs that once moved the hearts of men.
And random people look back at you to see
a caricature of a man you thought you would be
and they shake their heads wondering what has
become of you. Didn’t you know you were playing
the fool all along?

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