Still Rises the Sun (A Gentleman's Agreement)

Their houses touch like fingertips.

With sealed doors and sealed lips,

they’re letting go; they’ve lost their grips.

They all know me by name but not my

stories and previous pains.

With tin-can telephones they begin to discuss.

Directions and trust.

Their connections adjust.

Sticking out in my mind, like serpents they constrict

these ties that bind us together.

Haunting me in person with wishes of choice

and I try but with throat dry, dead is my voice.

I know what’s right and what must be done but

in the end, lust won, and when the moon

backs down, still rises the sun.