we do the best with what we have.

now you know,
when it comes to what you're made of
there is only ice or iron
to choose from.

some men, they're ladies' men
hopeless, alone, crooked
but always a blond on their arm
and a sheepish coy grin
on their faces: goofy
but they get along okay,
avoid the pregnancies or
diseases
and cross only the bridges they must
(a life in pursuit of the pleasure chest that is between a woman's legs): loneliness.

and others, quiet and desperate
wishing or reaching through the
solemn branches of their hopes and
losses
(which they keep track of on loose leaf)
and we know
(looking from the outside)
they could be doing better
or worse
and pretty much are.

most of them have lengthening
habits: drink, smokeing

(two packs a day hurts anyone, they say)
and i've seen it happen
all over the world.

but with them or the others
it's the same:
ice or iron and we don't get
long to choose.

2004-05-15 | 11:50 a.m.
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