Follow the godling of crossroads;
the impudent psychopomp.
He knows which roadsigns lie.
If you pay him with coffee
he'll duck you under
the low-hanging branches
and regale you with trivia
from inception to terminus.
If you pay him with lost objects
he'll prop you in the path
of the sweet, seething maenad
who'll rip into your weekend
and leave you stunned and stumbling,
two days late to work and smirking.
If you pay him in sad songs
he'll lead you below street level
to the basement bar where
he’ll introduce you to your diametric twin--
the one who calls youthe evil twin
for sacrificing happiness for safety.
The twin who can teach you your freedom.
Yes.
I know a sad song.
Listen carefully.
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