February: Year-day 33

                                       
                                       
February: Year-day 33
                   
Heroes and lollipops.  How we want them/
pure/ in our moments of false nostalgia!
No teeth-cracking boots to the groin, blood, phlegm;
no bluffings beat when a wizard calls ya.
Masters of our fates.  Gods.  Cold, human gods.
To admire but not to imitate, placed
so brightly above us even the odds
blind our weak-eyed hopes of being so chaste.

If Washington did lie, with women played;
and, though love's thistles did prick Doris Day,
Olympus is not by an earthquake shook.

Sure, lollipops may be better than dope,
and smoking despair won't help us taste hope;
it's the human in heroes/ lets us look.
                                               
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