in the face of the absurd, we made hats out of felt
and danced the existential dance. we had learned
from an early age that we had to light our own torches,
our mothers and fathers too busy in the cave watching
their own shadows to raise us the way we should have
been. to kill ourselves or not to kill ourselves, that was
the question everyday upon waking and tucking in. such
responsibility often filled our stomachs with nausea
and it was adrift in that sea that we contemplated
the meaning of refrigerators and electronic devices.
the swill of the divine was in our throats, and we cut
the head off fate, carrying it on a pike through the streets,
unsure of what to do next, but doing it all the same.