a smile of acquaintance
and slivers of light
then ask how my day went
and shiver the night
a steady crescendo
like Ravel's Bolero
an 8-bit Nintendo
reset back to zero
the bile ducts compiling
their venomous tract
and each neuron filing
each villainous act
its what i have grown to
to run in this race-
but what i've come home to
is that pretty face