I was out with some friends the other night to meet some people at a cafe (that is people of the opposite sex). Though I myself was disinterested in the prospect before we even arrived, the experience was rather amusing. We met these 3 vacant sex fiends; and the philosophical differences made for a rather awkward situation.. I couldn’t help but think with our idealism versus their pedestrian visceral logic that we were like 4 Don Quixotes…

smoke inhaled by naked lungs
cigarette ashtray hourglass
measured in incoherent intervals

four Don Quixotes fighting
windmills, those
fatalistic flowers
flowing helplessly in the wind

after tacking into which
they’ll come to a flat doldrum
and rest peacefully in the mirage

as sunlight reflects into the mind
things lose their distinction
and must be maintained,
by the absurdity of habit