I delivered the goods

but came up short--

welched on by every

jackass with a theory

I told of my truth--

caught on the fly

as image and insight

cemented my vision

to an eternal particular--

which passed in the instant

of its happening--and was

as far gone as Atlantis

a merest moment afterward--

so why do I weep

when what I weep was swept away

in its own doing

and stays as preserved

as memory as long as the head

holding it endures--and the heart

after that head--likewise passes-

so I delivered the goods--

They are what they are--

and if that's not what you wanted--

well--don't complain--we're all busted now-

and stuck with what we have--

and stuck with what we have--

and stuck with what we have--

and stuck with who we are--

                                            (c)2009 Philip Milito.  All rights reserved.