Structure

Of man
Of cells
Of hope
Of time.
Of circumstance
enchantment true,
drinks laid out for tea
without a clue.
Of sex
and drugs
and rock
and roll,
and all things in between
that claim the soul.
Of daytime sets
and tennis mate,
daytime TV
and your blind date.
Of hopelessly falling
till you can't get up
and all that's left
is a stark tin cup,
and your hopes
and dreams
lay right just there,
like an accident
that you can't help but stare.
Of happy times
and hopeful days,
slender chances
and how they weigh.
And they do.
They do.