there’s boys
and they love their Nietzsche
their friend from the brittle
yellow paperback they keep
between the old mattress
and the squeaking bed frame
thus spoke,
and boyish backs strengthen
thus spoke,
beyond good and evil
beyond the province
thus spoke,
untimely many auroras
have dawned behind the boyish ears
countless Nietzsches
countless bed frames
countless echoes
countless boys
the boys and Nietzsche
