Therese Pace

and logic fell into step beside me
along a newfound path, old new
comrade, conclusions in his fist,

ironing things out between my
mind and me, acting sabbatical
enough to chide me like a parent

sad at his grown son’s feeble I.Q.
Priding myself in flair, in savoir
, in vision not impaired,

how come perception slipped me
that this is not a world of altruism,
of philanthropic trends. That suns

are dimmed by their same glare and
forced into recess. That he who stretches
out his hand in thrifty giving must

either be repaying a kindness done and
taken, or else expects in future to extricate
from you his pound of owing bacon.