Brzowski’s Interlude

[Brzowski:]
Got a letter from a counselor, he said to delete it
I did, the dutiful friend, doesn’t mean I didn’t read it
There was never a doubt or moth-hole in his 8 year plan
Put aside those spinning circles, had a feeling he’d be back again
We’re worldly enough in brow creases to know dreams aren’t lucrative
And songs won’t change anything without blood and bleach and gears
Tap the nib against a legal ruled pad, never tried to force it sir
Chew pencap with an acid tab, refusing the forfeiture
Cut a whole out of your center the size of a grown person
Can’t wish any calendars back, overturn contracts signed in cursive
The books never got dusty, because the tomes never sat long
If I had a 3rd lung I’d whistle-stop for the folksy vagabond
Gumption, brawn, debt, brain, coffee, popped nylon strings
1 finger across a highlighted line in neon-green is what day brings
Always replace the votive candles, never neglect to pay utilities
As you move to shift tectonic plates with grace please don’t forget we
No seppuku on these here marble steps
Already running slick with t-cells, plasma, platelets
Unheard of- too old for sharp swerve, pivot to fresher choice
More than 1 way to swing a gavel or advocate for throats pronounced voiceless
Hand-rolled pleasantries in a flophouse, ignoring cops at door
Built the Arts District, then got shoved to outskirt quarters
Built a sinking ship with chopsticks in a discarded label-peeled bottle
Drank breakfast from a cigarette astride finest Berkeley Potholes
Pumping flesh in receiving line, everyone taking a turn
Thin smiles through the overture, there goes Isaac and his paperwork