you have marched over all my plans,
chipping the concrete sidewalks into sand,
the paths mice and me have laid,
but are now decayed,
here below–

all mine–or so
until you took them away–
not you, never you, but your tortuous ways,

my dreams of domination
now flailing, fried bytes on a silicon floor,
you were not downloaded, but were in the light
that struck / and cooked / the comp’ /
as I clicked / to view / to join /
to think / I never thanked you
when it left me lonely;
another dazy-eyed other.

my dreams of dancing
now trampled confetti on a post-prom floor,
you were not seated, but were in the chair
that tripped / and tore / the tendon /
as I stood / to walk / to ask /
to think / I never thanked you
when she left me lonely;
another shady-eyed other.

my dreams of debauchery
now boot-imprinted beer on an Accord floor,
you were not at the wheel, but were in the car
that died / and burned / the belt /
as I steered / to go / to drive /
to think / I never thanked you
when he left me lonely;
another hazy-eyed other.

all mine–or so
until you took them away–
not you, never you, but your tortuous ways,

exploding the dreams we don’t share,
slamming a sledge against the foundation
of my present–wishes, sand, and water whipped:
minerals mixed in the vat called the human mind.
So manly-made they are, and me!
meddling in the presence of your prenatal plans.
1The pronoun, “I,” not the Roman numeral