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closet optimist

“hope springs eternal” etc.


confronted with questions

about the men who sojourn

in and out of my life

i retreat instinctively behind

an agnostic cloud

having long believed

my tangos with fate

to be private affairs

clutched tight to my chest

like a grenade


there is still plenty of time

for things to go wrong with us:

plagues of locusts

descending from the sky

cordyceps sprouting silently

in the night, casual profession

of republican faith


from ominous x-ray shadows

to lurking muggers

the future is uncharted by definition

most disasters unplanned

but what if things went right

my love?

what if they went right

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