[Cimmerian]

His pores opened—hot towel—skin soaking
Eyes closed—Barbicide on the nose
His mind, floating—full sail, wide ocean
Wind-stroked wings, stock brokering bonds broken
Business brought attitude, office at high altitude
A fountain of youth with a peter panoramic view
Dollars made sense, frenemies, mere platitudes
Dog eats dog—canines turned to cannibals
Live by the blade and pay for close shaves
He laid twenty on the ledge, waved ‘em good day
A light in the darkness, he turned up the shade
Lit up a cigarette, opened his window a ways
Flicked the ash, tracked down its elegant path
The direction, he laughed, that the market had crashed
Breeze through his hair, swearing sea salt’s in the air
He leaned out and flew. He was no longer there.