Time Is The Ballerina You Do Shots With

The last ferry; hungry for the chuff of the sea
with its spray un-bedazzled by a thousand constant sunsets
on the ass end of twilight, barking at unfortunate moons
with brittle halos, parked on unkempt lawns
as far away as a walk
in the arena 
of your-

Unperturbed.

But alas and hallelujah
time is the ballerina you 
do shots with…
in the opera of your pause
grasping at poltergeists-
that read Kafka 
for a Living-

to die trying