tie my shoes

it is said, “flowing water, holds no poison…”

sitting in calm
abiding, at the bar,
marble floors, high ceilings,
a cathedral to opulence and excess,
the lightning bolt meets the icy lightning bolt,
there are sports, then there is budo; ceo’s shoes untied,
“excuse me, your shoes are untied,” he leans,
looking down, then comes, “i know,”
he bristles, then looks, then
turns, stretching out
as the dojocho
the foot, outstretched,
placed on the bar rail, the blurted
instructions to a subordinate, “TIE MY SHOE,”
the man complies, and ceo turns
back, “NOW THAT’S
POWER,” yet
was not
”it’s not yours.”
turned, the rest of
an evening conversation
to recover. using the heruka form
to get what is wanted,
power given,
“you’re not calm,”
the young man says to another,
“yes i am,” followed by
“no you’re not”,
put down
at the same exact
moment, observed, “whoah,
you both put the glasses down at the
same time,” and an invitation to play poker,
it wouldn’t let up, and continued,
“you ordered that wine out
of spite…”
”yes,” said
the young man
in mottled grey sport jacket.
it is all aflame.
all of it.
”sex”, “poker”,
insults; may the slings
and arrows join the path of
enlightenment, straight
to the end, the arrow
flies, all on the