Vienna, 1968

If you give me Vaseline,
An oil to ease my aching,
And tell me that I’m human after all,
I may cough up my catball of sins,
My fur ball of past nightly raids,
And try again on an empty stomach.

I may even believe for a while
That these sugary lights of Vienna
Floating in a two-spired Gothic
Can raise me up, enlighten me.
Floating there can recall
The One True God
Floating there above the city.

But I am full again and aching,
Gorged, gaseous, and grotesque
In my twentieth century belly,
Again and again and again.