Gasconade: A Threat

I will commiserate everyone else who bears your name,

because I am a permanant shudder at the sound of anything like it.
And they must carry the weight of my memory of you.

I wish my mother'd
have taught me the value of limit,
so I could have averted this
entire yarn the way a captain
wishes a cartographer would
teach the rocky,
uncompromise of
gasconade skirtings of the shore.

This city is small enough for me to haunt you
and for you to haunt me.
I fear running into you
in the same way
that I fear waking my sleeping beast.
The way I fear missing my turn.