JIMMY

Jimmy loves lovely love

(or a still picture of It;

a softed Hollywood vision of It;

an innocent juvenile dream of It)

and Jimmy

hates horrid hate

(or he knows he should

and hopes he does

but he don’t know It;

Jimmy's been too numb)

but

lovely love loves to horribly hate Jimmy

and

Jimmy knows he does hate that.

but sometimes,

in the Black Sea

low in a pillow when night ticks under a clock of claws

Jimmy . . . 

(if he is awake and

if he is thinking

and if White Noise

receded like moon tide)

. . . then

he can start to hate lovely love

(or his child’s idea of It;

his weak-handed dream of It)

and

he can start to love horrible hate

(or he hopes he does;

he don’t know It)

and he hangs on both ways for the morning grey light

and

goes out 

(goes on) 

insignificant in boots holding empty bags

treading 

in 

the oily puddles.