lost pipes on the parrot axis - a November elegy

.they are ancient—time of death—still intimate
these two—you know—close as hamsters—still sex—even then—yes
not like some others—hating—you see it—blowing smoke
to the end—hissing like stuck rats—burst pipes—no, best friends
lovers—old friends, old—then gone, her—she
one morning, gone—overnight snow—tracks covered—as it were
a dull blow—at that age—lethal—a part of him

part of something, yes—grown into each—to each
what this means here—his extended mechanism—love, you know
love—yes—no longer discrete—merged his—with hers
extended what?—phenotype?—organ, he thought really—felt
like a church—crematorium, anyway—walls covered in pipes—ivy
can't help thinking—Pied Piper—but the wrong end, yes—no

just so many pipes—fine for rats, you'd think—homely
all twisting up there—scurrying—phenopipe?—no, no
all confused anyway—so many damn pipes—all we are, perhaps
pipes, yes—all from the same organ—made you rumble inside
no rats really, no—sort of a piper—off we are carried
down the pipes—such a shock—quite lethal, quite

—at that age—attack of the pipes—sudden—deadly
—he's lost now—in there—in the winding—lost—pipe down
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