The Lure of Fortune

Our time begins on a lure of fortune.
A beat of drums, the sound of pipes.
The bay, the bay.
Tides roll in on bloodstained sands.
Picturesque, if you can avoid
thinking of all the drowned.
A field full of flowers
watered by blood,
every hill a cairn.
Every speck of dust in the world
somebody else
distilled after.
Breathe it in.
Our time begins here, on a lure of fortune.
A summation of sensation.
A dollar worth of delight,
a cent of sin.
The way, the way
of everything.
The measuring magnificent.
The deathbed recital.
The sunsets and the sex
the art and the nonsense.
The things that cannot be bought
but require purchasing.
Our time begins here, on a lure of fortune.
A promise to forget.
And a desire for more.
When our times ends in a rictus smile,
We'll be free of the lure of fortune.