#1.

i've knelt at the fountain of passion
for hours
lips grazing the surface so long
oil slicks have formed.
i awake
staring at ants
bemoaning a disappointingly weak hangover.

what of my inquiring knees
flattened kneecaps
waiting for an answer
sadness is needy
and my frustration feeds it
dripping spoonfuls of unrequited purpose.
there are no instructions
to an unknown location
at every bend i ask
hoping for a clue
or sense of direction.

--a.w.