THE ALTERNATIVE

The boy was confident though
his bowels coughed pitter-pat.

This was not a sign of his
middle-age: hands shaking, voice

shaking, sexing stockinged legs
in the front row. How the

paper trembled and the world
curled into itself, the

potter casting his creation
away. Proof, the other said,

squirming. That bitch gave me the
clap. The boy's middle age

doesn't know what the other
expected. Her first name

ended in a capital
D, after all, like the boy's

middle age will end: alone.
This is better than the

alternative, at any
rate: the times he should have died

outnumber the dollars he
should have in his account, and

for once she says she doesn't
mind it like that. Outnumbered

and outgunned, the boy's middle
age tries to find forgiveness

and fails. It's harder than it
should be, and this, again,

is equal to or less than.