Thursday, July 04, 2019

Escape Hatch (For J.B.)

She tasted like Edward R. Murrow
Meaning she was newsworthy
Dedicating this poem to J.B. because he’ll get where I’m coming from
Plus there won’t be any accusatory glances like I stole his best lines
Sitting in only my boxers because when I hit the pipe I choked so hard all of my clothes became an impediment
Oftentimes the only comfort I feel is when I stand over the kitchen sink retching in time with the Final Jeopardy music
He hinted about an escape hatch long before performing his final act of desperation
I understand you want reparations, but you’re not the only ones who were raked over the coals and left in the sun to harden like aggrieved melons
I’ve been called a misogynist and will probably be labeled a racist for the last line, but none of it is true
I get a bad rap because I don’t believe in cutting off the crusts before serving the peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwiches because even rock royalty needs to learn to eat crow
She wanted to play my bagpipes, but I told her my kilt was at the cleaners and she bought it
Let’s focus less on news that is slanted, white washed and pasteurized and hone in on the atrocities laying siege like breadfruit to our planet’s core
I’m as out of touch as the next American casualty
If our apathy was worth its weight in gold we’d all be Donald Trump
She fixed my watch by breaking into my heart and taking my very last ounce of courage hostage
It distracted me just long enough that she was able to make a break for it while “Break On Through (To the Other Side)” played in my mind

Charles Cicirella

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