It’s
no secret
Been
out to lunch since before I can even remember
In
fact I remember nothing and nothing is all I’m holding onto
When
she appeared before me it took my breath and all of my loose change away
Dressed
in her birthday suit and an ability to change according to the seasons, she
called my bluff while going beneath the hood and replacing any loose hoses
I
believed I was in love, but that’s always been my cross to bear
We
live on Flintstones Chewables and our inability to ever finish anything we
start
We
break beneath the falsified pressure of another cooked election or email hacked
for the sake of ridicule and redundancy
Let’s
stop jumping for Joy and leave Merry alone because before we know it we’re all
going up in a puff of second hand smoke
It’s
no secret
I
was born with an anchor tied to my ankle and like all ankle-bracelet-babies I’m
bound to get mine before the sun sets or gets its teeth kicked in by an envious
and devout moon
Ready
to deliver the good news before coming to terms with none of the news being all
that good and the blood spattered morning just keeps reminding me we’re all
doomed
Charles Cicirella
3/24/18
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