i could hang a beef-side
on your words to me.

morning, noon, night
i hear a silent harumph.

it's the opaque pall draping
the casket of dead feelings.

your measure is skewed
as you smile toward me.

i question my existence;
my worth in your world.

your world is my world.
am i even in your view?

i relax in your poor vision;
i'm just standing too close.

10/27/2005