target

when then became of
my deep, abiding love?
with no target anymore
a million internet poems,
a spring or mire, blown
gasket, sensitive yea,
or ears ringing subway—
i turned inward and
questioned the word

what then became of
my deep, abiding love
with no targets left?
don't get me started
to get me, forget me

[he looks into the camera to sing
his girlfriend lives in denmark]