Taxi Poem

I wrote the following poem on a business card and a Gloria Jeans frequent caffeine addict punch-card, in the back of my taxi home last night. Except for the last part, which I wrote on my hand. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and I didn’t have a very nice night, so for posterity and wider appreciation of my inebriated grandeur, Here:

I shall write poetry!
In light of the chase.
And though I shall drink
I shall remain in doubt.
Though I seek that which is not mine
Though I seek that which is not pure
Though I beg at the bough of the forbidden tree
I shall not pursue thee.

Five rules a man must live by!
Lacking Apologies
Fine Dining
Improper Passion
Lonely Success
And Supplementary Substances.

I shall find a key,
To which you shall bear no lock
And upon this lonely dock
I take your departing hand.
Fare well! But let us not good bye,
My forsaken strictured girl.
Be cool! My brother in all but name, looks,
Blood, taste and bond.

I HAVE SETTLED. This is
Inadequate.
I find myself lacking
In the protocol expected from myself.
Lacking in the spirit I require;
I insofar as lack the only thing
I lack. Lack.
Lack.
Emancipate.