CASUALTIES (or, killing your darlings)

When left alone, I’ve fabricated

stories, other me’s to entertain myself:

two old men holding down

a Common bench, a high school wench

flirting in the mall, a parade

of clowns of every hue and stripe.

If they would just spread out,

they’d be a force to reckon with,

but as it is, they’re newbies:

they bunch up, stand about in a clench,

and a single softly lobbed grenade – 

the banal truth about my life – 

takes out most of them all at once.

The few that remain are whacked

beyond repair, and I’ve got on my hands

the blood of friends I’ve just created.