i feel as
a peddler
on the street,
a street

peddling his
flimsy and
shabby concoctions
of doom and grime

come and
get it
get it here
now or never

except i lack
the street
and the cart
and even courage

i feel a
traitor to
my soul
my pneuma

but even the
gods had to
show us what
they'd done

a nascency
frivolous
often wicked
and seldom

equitable