SpentDo you understand?Spent by riparii
There will come a day
not far from now
when everything I am is spent
and there is no more currency.
When I finally turn away
in the thick blue smoke of your disdain,
when I turn for the last time,
I will dissipate, return to my own way
in the fog and the blanketing grey;
there will be nothing like
the low flute of your voice
weaving notes for me
through the steady drum of the rain.