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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=548903" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Common Courtesy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=548903" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">What does my heart feel like now; <br>But it feels like a long poem wanting more the<br>Poisons of my muses of putrescent Janus; <br>Looking both ways from the doorways of these<br>Awful purple valves, <br>While there are little keyholes of vision, <br>Then the crickets and golf balls, and the wickedness<br>Of water-breathing reptiles in the tall grasses of<br>Head-shaven cannibals: <br>I awakened this day of my third decade and asked a<br>Girl out for the first time, <br>And she said she couldn’t because she said she was<br>Not mine; <br>I asked a girl out for the first and for the last time, <br>And the candles melted under the pillow of unanswered <br>Virgins, <br>And I slouched off to the sea alone in my diesel truck <br>With the amphibian airplanes leaping above the ankles of<br>These almost vanished Titans; <br>And I thought of my muses, but paid to be laid by a little<br>Ballerina in the marmalade shade; <br>And it was so wonderful, and it was almost surreal for a<br>Second to lie to myself and to almost believe in the<br>Statues franchising in this dusk, <br>That I wasn’t a man so alone that it was just a common <br>Courtesy to fail.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Bret+R.+Crabrooke">Bret R. Crabrooke</a></strong></div>