Brzowski's Interlude - Swordplay, Brzowski

Got a letter from a counselor, he said to delete it

I did, the dutiful friend, doesn’t mean I didn’t read it

There was never a doubt or moth-hole in his 8 year plan

Put aside those spinning circles, had a feeling he’d be back again

We’re worldly enough in brow creases to know dreams aren’t lucrative

And songs won’t change anything without blood and bleach and gears

Tap the nib against a legal ruled pad, never tried to force it sir

Chew pencap with an acid tab, refusing the forfeiture

Cut a whole out of your center the size of a grown person

Can’t wish any calendars back, overturn contracts signed in cursive

The books never got dusty, because the tomes never sat long

If I had a 3rd lung I’d whistle-stop for the folksy vagabond

Gumption, brawn, debt, brain, coffee, popped nylon strings

1 finger across a highlighted line in neon-green is what day brings

Always replace the votive candles, never neglect to pay utilities

As you move to shift tectonic plates with grace please don’t forget we

No seppuku on these here marble steps

Already running slick with t-cells, plasma, platelets

Unheard of- too old for sharp swerve, pivot to fresher choice

More than 1 way to swing a gavel or advocate for throats pronounced voiceless

Hand-rolled pleasantries in a flophouse, ignoring cops at door

Built the Arts District, then got shoved to outskirt quarters

Built a sinking ship with chopsticks in a discarded label-peeled bottle

Drank breakfast from a cigarette astride finest Berkeley Potholes

Pumping flesh in receiving line, everyone taking a turn

Thin smiles through the overture, there goes Isaac and his paperwork