and as our grief falls flat and hollow
upon the billion-blooded sea
i pass upon serious inward-breaking shoals rimmed
with white-legged, white-bellied rotting creatures
lengthily dead and rotting against surrounding scenes.
dear child, i only did to you what the sparrow
did to you; i am old when it is fashionable to be
young; i cry when it is fashionable to laugh.
i hated you when it would have taken less courage
to love.
-charles bukowski
