Living Model of Fourth Bridge

I wish for summer's untimely end, mais
Cette rafale dans tête prohibits me all
Manner adynaton; no matter, then.

    When god made Adam, everyone agreed,
    He was too fat and much too dumb to breed.

When I don't feel well, I peek in my pants:
Spark plugs gape obscene, oil black as slick night,
Taproots poke through feet, body tired and worn.

In afternoons, words falter upon curve,
Fall listlessly, unmatch fate's filigree.
I could ask of them, "Why is flag of my

Disposition at full mast? Who has died?"
"Ich weiß wer du bist," replies my kindly
Hatchet man, spiders lurking behind eyes.

He explains, as I fondle plinth: When he
Must break adze, he goes to lie in your bed,
So that you may not lie down for jetsam'd

Suff'rance. You toil; they measure their treasure
Achromate, and barometric pressure
v. depression, while out in hall they stand.

    All places that had cause for me to be
    Were places where you've taken me, and now—

Would you carve time out of your busy day
To simmer me in room behind that gate?
I'll be crazed crockery; you'll sit and wait.