dust
At our tastes: the crispness of life,
And we Mongoled human experience.
The tequila, that Sandras or Cassandras, or whomever
it had beeen
At the moment of malevolently blessing our heated and
Maddening consumption, was what we left
Our wives for; and then hardened ourselves on
The springless cushions of the sofas of our friends
Whom we eventually forgot the names of: