Friday, September 16, 2016

The Best Out of Life

Everything's as dry as a corpse ~
she keeps singing to me
as she passes behind her bar...


It's just passed high noon.

She refills my vodka and cranberry,
we talk circus; my falls and flights,
her time in the Fire-Eaters Guild,
I tell her I was flying earlier today
from a green sheet of sweaty silk
hung from a warehouse ceiling
near downtown Detroit.

She tells me she gets what she needs
out of life,
making the rest from what she finds:
truth and lies -
a long drive down the west coast
as the sun beams off water as red
as a subterranean sea of magma.

I find everything I need and then
I find creative ways to lose it.

It's a talent handed down through
the generations.

I tell her this.

She smiles, starts singing again.

The door opens, more customers
walk in, ready to drink Sunday
to the floor with the chewed
gum stuck, broken pretzels strewn
hitherto; promises no one keeps...

So many jagged pieces.

Just then,
smoke begins to rise from the dried husks
of men and women
who measured woefully less.



Ultra Toast Mosha God said...

'I find everything I need and then
I find creative ways to lose it.'


eric1313 said...

It's the simplest way of putting it.

Though, I am getting worse at losing things. I might keep something one day, I think. Life is on the move.