Regarding The Going-On of Hearts (Near, Far, Wherever…)

As icy water wraps me

Like Satan’s comfort blanket

The naked truth hits me

Like one of my French girls.

I realize that I will die

And almost certainly not win an Oscar.

I look out on the ocean,

Green waves far away massage

Where the shore’s shoulders would be

If the shore had shoulders.

A cold wind turns the surface

Into a speckled visage,

The watery face of a teenage boy

If that’s what the ocean were.

Leagues below, seaweed dances

As a beloved mermaid sings

About how unsatisfied she is

With royalty and wealth.

All I hear is screaming,

The sound of burning wreckage

Sinking below the surface,

And Celine Dion warming up offstage.

As I gaze into the eyes of my love

Whom I met a few hours ago

My suffering diminishes

For I do not suffer alone.

A thousand boyfriends will share

This 214-minute suffering

For so long as home videos exist.

I was her shoulder to cry on,

Something the shoulderless shore

Will never be.

Okay, I’m cold now.

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