LUST

(going into the night. away
from lights and figures, hands jammed
into pockets
protecting
used fingers. Rapaciousness.
Each women
taken,
separately, without love,
without
feeling. Actually, not touching, they sit
and eat flesh, and pretend
they're romantic.

Myself also exposed.
A fine steel spray
pricks holes
in my face, gradually seeing
what I really am
so painfully slow
to realize what I must give
before I can count
what is given back.

The addition of days
trails the last act
of my life.
The wreckage lies
across my face; after seeing
what I thought solid
break and fall
around my feet.

Norman Savage
Coney Island, 1969