on abandonment

shame-facedly is no way to get there.
likenesses pass through scenes,
abandonment collecting in the drain,
leaving behind the hairiness.
the work-a-day neverminds of hard swallows

slogging red-facedly
running through lines from previous lives,
a script repeating,
a bad soap opera.

An American one, where we all think we should know better,
but refuse resolve,
because the taste is so delicious on the tongue,
when constantly shoveled in.