what I betrayed—moon in Libra—danced around myself 
was always weighing—the future and whatever else—tacking
my horse—sizing up my opponent—no one—riding into 
the target—I was alone in Washington
a woman rode past on a bicycle—I was in the wrong place—I didn’t know 
where I was—let myself forget—let myself look—searched 
through my pockets—it wasn’t there—the cyclist growled 
nevermind—today read about the denial and delusion of John
a hundred backyard parties—swimming—acres of gin—
in the city a man tries to make his fortune—searches—
is always frustrated, comes home late one night and finds 
what he’d forgotten—his wife, gentle, framed—a slip, the light
of their apartment—this is his fortune—as for myself,
found it too late—a note in my pocket—a traveller with petty complaints
and too many demands—
underlined—soon wears out his welcome

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