True love makes every man build at the centre of the Earth,
And yet this same house is always waiting for the new decisive male.
There is not the capacity for us all here,
So long as the warm hearts of women are inaudible.
Zero fidelity survives in men,
Save toward surges of loose blood-guilt.
All of this can be concealed on facebook home feeds
Or on the home pages of coveted websites. Why home?
I have wasted my life building houses
And then staring at the smoke of dead bricks.
Now is the time to wonder, before I wander,
All truth is found in family and friends.