The Gutter of Love, or, What I Might Have Learned From Lou Reed if I'd Ever Listened to Lou Reed

This small thing that feeds me,

it's quicksilver,

it puffs away.

I slip on as well,

Everyone just slips on,

crumpled.  We give up.

Our food gives up on us, 

it's a spat,

the knots of ego and exhaustion.

The gutter of love.