Taught on your way through…

Taught on your way through jesus easter midnights not to
open your innocent eyes,
ever,
you wander like a headless plastic doll
in alcohol nirvana wonderland coming;
while the wild,
strawberry circus of anima icons, in the
estuaries that fill your optic nerve with living,
replace, unflinchingly
everything you never wanted to see anyway;
they build that Chinese wall for you easily,
like a dead grandparent’s laughter,
filling a room with the scent of late tuesday foods —
with the scent of quotidian summer in the city —
and it suits you.
It suits you fine.