And now back to our regularly scheduled programming…

Not that you care, but today I’m feeling groggy, disoriented, sleepy, and vaguely disgruntled. It’s like all of the joy and hope I felt yesterday has left me with a hangover.

the best lack all conviction

wandering, alone, dazed and confused
in hedge mazes hewn from legal speak and
wishful thinking. They stumble into dead

ends and queer sand traps, gopher holes
to snap their ankles, and hear the echoes of 
faroff voices, rising and falling like waves,

over the clink of expensive silverware, 
the music of casual laughter, a muted
string quartet. 

No wonder they lose all sense 
of direction and purpose, faced with such 
frustration, turning

over and over into blind alleys 
lined with vicious branches, prevarications
on a single theme of entrapment.

Now, as it gets dark, it seems
that distant party has been thrown only
as a mirage,

to torture these best few
with the hope of release; 
this game works to keep these last

persistent seekers circling
endlessly back to the center,
where a sarcastic bronze statue,

mottled with age and cast
long ago with the name TRUTH across its base,
poises over an empty fountain,

pissing air into air.

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