Tuesday, January 18, 2022

We stand to lose everything.


It’s right there in front of our faces
Life eternally present until it’s not
We mustn’t get too caught up in the details if we wish to seize the day and not make a mess of everything

These words are for you because I couldn’t afford flowers
I offer you my soul and I pray it’s enough
The truth is I’m not much of a romantic, but I am hopeless

Editors cannot figure out the line breaks in my poetry
It’s a headache having to redesign their small pages with my large thoughts
In this same building over twenty years ago Jim Murray read me back one of my poems and he hit every mark

That was the same apartment building where I first saw Last Tango in Paris and Dylan’s masterpiece Renaldo and Clara
I’m no happier than I was then and in fact I believe I’m even worse off
I finally picked myself up and moved to Columbus. I wonder what major move I’ll need to make now to stop feeling so numb

It’s right here for the world to see
A bloody pageantry of fists bumping and tongues wagging
A calliope of worthless tropes and memes burying us in endless silences

These words are for you because it’s easier to pick myself apart than pick out the perfect gift
My mother always said not to bother buying her anything for her birthday and she meant it
I believe that’s because my mom had expensive taste and knew nothing I could afford she’d want.

Charles Cicirella

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