now you know in poetry

nearly everyone knew
he was running on fumes
nearly everyone assumed
she was high on other fumes
from a paperbag in her room
though she was shaking really
from thoughts so frantically asea
with vague faded sensations of doom
parsifal whispered the king
was sick with experi-ence
eno hella yelling no more
cycles of recycled revenge
nipping at the edges but
never quite hitting the truth enough
for those handgrenades or horseshoes
only having useful levels of meaning
if you stretch it out fast and loose
nearly everyone knew
but none of it was true
even the things that got close
where secrets kept
‘tween me and you
lost to time and distance
as you do