Issue

So he approximates neurosis
for the cameras
but offset he's congruent
as a set of satellite blueprints.
It's just mind tourism,
the flirting with thought-walks
that lead a chap off high ledges.
At parties he cuts
through the water like a catamaran
pursued by dorsal fans,
riding praise like a trade wind.
You see him shake
and swap pleasantries
with everyone from longtime hometown pals
to rhinestone-bright celebrities.

He smells success like warm bread.
He thinks death is the holiday that never comes.
He punches stopcocks till his knuckles bleed,
till water breaks loose like huge petals.