Fin-de-Siècle America

by Murray Shugars

Carriages were passing in the distance
When I took my first drink of your dantesque
Dreams and of course I ate a tawdry thought
Or two O remember how we emptied
Every drop of pleasure from the vessel
Long before the mountains were burning
Before we were dying of loneliness
Back when the fog parted down the middle
Of any road we walked where you told me
Good God what’s there to be common about?
Lift the tureen’s lid and ladle me out
A steaming mug of your sweet somber soul
Let’s drink this burning liquor like your life
Your sun–severed and windblown life