Quatrains

we may have run out of random excuses
tied on the back of a very long list of emotional
quatrains,
flowing around rhymed nothingness

seeking relief from rhymed lines
out of time, mystical signs
can you believe them
when nothing comes to be

the lightened sublime fades in the sunlight
scatterbrained egos run like mice
repentant gossips scurried
like jumping dice

we cautiously looked around the restaurant
and saw,
tables of two holding hands
tables of one, sat a darkened clam with brocolli picks

she walked out onto the street with her secret
thinking nobody sees,
nobody knows

leaving the soup in the kitchen for tea
laughing at nothing,
nothing that made sense...