Desperate Bastard

'Presuming' sophistry of me

You turned and walked

Confidently away

And I yelled

About mediocrity

Until bailiffs and morning birds.

There will never be an emptier table than this one.

I’ll put a glass bowl on it and think of all

The fruit you brought, countryfresh.

There is nothing more to do

But retreat to the Masonic lodge

And to the snack bar where

Many delicious pomegranates

Wait.