I shall not fight the inner loon in my decaying carcass ,

I will not sedate him nor shall I clip his wings.

I will not burn

his freak flag

or silence

his

honking

brass kettle

when its time for tea and good graces.

I shall not sit

with another shaven monkey

trying to talk it through

when the loon wants to do the Hustle

all over the moon dust

that has scattered

along the paved roads of my mind.
If I lose my loon,

if I force him to leave me

and I bend into the world,

whom will I be?