Wednesday, November 21, 2018

Safety School

Clock’s ticking and I don’t give a shit
Soon I’ll be fifty and there’s nothing that can be done about it
When we resist Chronos all that happens is nothing and wrinkles still unstitch us

Sometimes we outlast the worst of conditions while other times the conditions eat our lunch, leaving us sad and hungry for past indiscretions
I was drafting you as you sped along like a racecar or unglued horse and it kept things light and breezy until we passed each other like two ships in the onyx, unclasped night
You never were much for crooning and that’s alright because my singing voice is for the birds and the birds are tone deaf and unimpressed by stable geniuses

Let’s hold hands as we jump off the unprepared cliff and accept once and for all you’re with someone else and significant others have never done much for my status as a lone poet in a forest of ne'er-do-wells
I can still see you rolled up in an Oriental rug like an uninvited casualty that never quite knew his or her place in this peanut butter and jelly routine of thingamabobs and doodads
You’re like the kitchen drawer that doesn’t quite fit and keeps pretending it’s not a catch-all for everything that’s unwilling to be so easily defined

Clock’s bleating like a constipated sheep that needs to either get on the pot or finally piss off
Soon the prospect of burning to a crisp won’t be so unpleasant to think about as remedial watches slow down to a stop and deplorable people learn once and for all why the right to vote is our nation’s only true cornerstone
When we resist Father Time it’s to our detriment because we only have so many seconds before the jig is up and we’re left dancing with death

Charles Cicirella

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