a sacred fire

simply wearing modern dress
no better time to confess
i know nothing about costume
sitting style less inside my weekly room
spraying the walls with ten dollar perfume

once i was a self-made man
who talked better than he ran
with a keen eye for the frivolous
who boasted of knowing what he could only guess
looking for more i came away with less

methodically still writing
with perfect nails for biting
i would gather fresh material for a feast
but was never able to slay the beast
who expected much but found in me the least

ashes of a sacred fire
when burning hot could inspire:
a nervous little gypsy smile
followed me for a day and a welcome mile
so i stopped to kiss it for a while