"…And you’ll find loss
And you’ll fear what you found;
When weather comes,
Tear him down”
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?
I just have a hell of a way of going about trying to get it.
One of these days, I’ll learn.
But yesterday was not that day.
It’s today. And tomorrow. And every day after.
How many more of these is it going to take?
I Understand why you’re mad
And it hurts to accept what I am
And how I live
And what I did.
…But I’ve been good since Thursday
Her morals worth a cent
And I already spent it.