Potpourri
Robert Michael O'Hearn
Of all the unnerving errors
patterning themselves
into one cornball epic of fate,
where you stood four-square,
nakedly and resolutely
placing your affirming hand
on a stack of bibles
and past-due bills,
and swore that original sin
was out of syndication.
The ensuing excitement,
intermittently created, eventually
disdained my continuing interest.
I am no longer sure
of anything of that sort.
My naive intentions on any
originality or anything else
smacking of jolting discourtesy,
are curiously nondescript.
I will allow the whole subject
to be dropped faster
than a free-falling safe
from atop the Sears Tower.
