The End of Achievement
Ken Poyner

Just beyond the flower garden at the end of the world.
Like the kind words you say
About someone you cannot remember.
As if in the moment of sexual climax
Together with someone you do not like,
Would not meet for dinner or take
To breakfast: not the perfect body,
Not the secret knowledge of you.
As though living in this generation
That will guarantee through its excesses
The destitution of its grandchildren.
Unsure if the well groomed prey is prey
Or is actually the hunter doing very well,
Very well. That moment.
Change returned at a cluttered tourist shop
In a currency you do not understand,
The clerk smiling and a stain
From anywhere on his left breast pocket.
Your hand knowing what to do
Without you, without stoically consulting you:
Flawlessly, doing what it wants
And it is what you want, even
What you need. In this moment
Everything matters, everything
Is pounding at the glass of your
Kitchen window, bathroom window,
The sweet back glass of your sedan,
A full world with its own
Plans as you are watching,
The impulse, the parasympathetic tic,
Your hands independently in your lap,
Simply watching. And it is gone.

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