Eleutheromania

i seek it everywhere. i go long nights into high noon
with my pruning shears and my audacity, to snip blooms
from the moon's fist and shadows from my chafe heel...
clamoring over sharp stones and soft clods of moss sod
unwavering. unassailable and unmatched.
i grasp the happy dream by the mane of it's night-mare
and ride her through the marsh and bog.
i greet the day with a handful of blue lemons
and toss them into the wishing well
along with last year's eyes that saw you leave me
for the spit of a camel on an iceberg*.

and ennui go.