Dave Bonta's short poem is a celebration of a life that refuses to be tidy. It opens with a comparison to blood in the body: something constant, hidden and essential. The speaker says he has no "real birthday," which suggests a sense of life that doesn't begin or end on a schedule, but simply runs on, the way blood does.
The middle lines turn outward. The speaker watches light move through a street and says it "dance[s] as all men do," as if everyone, like the light, is caught up in the same restless movement. The tone here is quiet and observant, even a little amused.
The last stanzas pull the idea together. A "wild life" is "whole" and "wells up," like water or feeling rising from below. The closing image of a "Lent fling" is surprising: a burst of indulgence in a season of restraint. Calling it "abominable and rich" shows the speaker enjoying the mix of guilt and pleasure. The mood is playful, earthy and a bit defiant.