“Synchronicity”

Out walking and I am a fine star. Care for something?
Fair enough! My eyes are sore
from the coffee and her sight
for sore losers: I’m a-cruising, not bruising; which will not
get me anywhere. Give it up! In Egypt

the pyramids really get in the way
of one’s progress. I visited St Catherine’s Monastery
where the burning bush is, and the fire
had gone out; something is too close
for Billy Joel and I’ve done it before anyway:

what do you say to a lie about happiness? I’d look
out at my picket fence and feel irresistible
as long as she wasn’t breathing down my neck! my head
in the basket and that’d be another case
of me not forgetting: shapes, Moses

but we tried to fight it. I might fit
a whole bag of salted peanuts into this, just
to see the grimace on the face in my head
because I didn’t throw anything out—promise!—
it was the coffee! the sight! the Gods!