I’m
not a storyteller, but if push comes to shove
I
will spin you a tale that will curl your toes
She
spit out the poison and returned to her invisible self
No
one could tell the difference when she spun off this mortal coil
Lackadaisical
to the nth degree
I
believe it to be my best and most irresistible quality
When
the buffalo chips are down you best learn to eat shit real good
The
heat baked me into a charcoal briquette. I looked like a California Raisin
without the milk or cereal bowl to sink into
Sometimes
I wish life would intervene and end this tyranny of hopelessness
Of
course without hopelessness hope would be just another misnomer like fear and
nausea
Rilke
is the weatherman of my soul and if that makes no sense to you well I cannot be
expected to shape your mush into something resembling a mind
The
leaves on the trees wanted me to tell you they miss you and wish you’d
reconsider your decision to stay indoors under lock and key
Some
other realm where the pigeons don’t aim for your head or shoulders when you’re
waiting for a bus or soul mate
Another
realm where the lesbians will sleep with a man if the conditions are just right
and all the dildos have been put up on the shelf
Okay
Marc I agree those last two lines leave a lot to be desired and are as groan
worthy as they come
When
casting yourself in shadows always keep in mind how close you are to the edge
and that plunging is not always a sign of desperation
Charles Cicirella
6/21/18
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