of that i know
that no death can measure
by coffee spoons
there is a place yet
i'd like to go,
where no one speaks
of michelangelo
wandering (Nowhere)
i came upon a man
drowning in filth,
lethargically awaiting
his own end of time
piercing yellowgray eyes
grasping at my coat,
pleading "mercy, sir, mercy?"
but i walked along
and i walked along
i only walked along
down the road, then,
a proud man stood,
a titan (full of the life
that lies beyond my door)
two creatures,
worlds apart
(so painfully distant)
but which of these was Prufrock
and which was michelangelo?