An outdated covenant

Will all questions be answered

or will they prove to be irrelevant?

Will I care or will I be a reed

broken among horseshoe crabs

in a hurricane? Hasn't every o

and zero been a hurricane hole

or some kind of aludel in which

pronouns lust for elixirs

and storms pass overhead

like bored celebrants intoning

an outdated covenant?

What did I want to be when I grew up?

I said anything that came into my head,

but what I really wanted to be

was that fatal crack in the crock

into which we pour our damnfoolselves,

which might be a kind of dead

or the deviousness of twilight.

Answers were too mossy,

there were dead children in the trout pools

and I never trusted the drive train

of my rusty Schwinn.