favored fool

Run, Forrest, Run
10 feet from a touch-down
but I turn back A-round
That finish line
doesn’t hold my prize

never felt so narcissistic
I’m determined to beat myself
into love with myself Again

A means to an end
These picayune scraps
A tattered rag
Once the flag of my life

Not all sacrifice
entails nobility
Silvered for runaway
from the hum-drum everyday
& patient contemplation
of my AIDS-riddled Jennay.