Snap out of it, I told my golem friend. There are
more important things than dwelling in the past perfect,
no need to cry over spilled chicken soup
nor hunger after latkes with sour cream.
Love comes in different varieties,
some as easy as heating up a can of soup,
but you are my own recipe—I appeal to your higher self—
for there is a dark force that has been released unto this land,
one that assembles its army of discontents
calling all cars from underground parking lots
to converge at the marblehead—
ready to blast us all into dust.