2

Two fevers,
two minutes,
two helix’ hopes,
two choices,
too many promises
too quickly broken,
two tragic heroes
too many (et
tu Brute?)
to taste my own bitter tongue,
to trust you
to begin again.
Two years later,
two saner heads with
two more strands of gray hair are
too sad to speak, with
two point two billion seconds
to spare.

© 2002, Joel Helbling. All rights reserved