FULL MOON ON TOP OF A CHAMPAGNE PALM'S TIP

when the runners stop
i keep on running.

when they are fed up,
i still munch.

when they declare everything
as tiresome and telling me that
i am one kind of impossible
(lost and vengeful guy) i
still go on being
one raging and
surging self like
a storm

for i don't really care.
I move and keep on moving
for if i stay, and be still,
i know what happens: i will
fall &

tumble down like a test tube,
and if it is not my lucky day,
i break into pieces and all of you
shall
look at me with all dismay:

he is mad, he breaks when he
is doing nothing. He is silent
when everyone screams.
He leaves when everyone
has arrived. And on a very
cold day, he goes naked and then
write a poem for summer.