warm but lockless.
by rcribay
sixty-degree days
in december are as
disquieting as
pooping in a
stall without a lock.
sixty-degree days
in december are as
disquieting as
pooping in a
stall without a lock.
just like johnny five
i feel that i’m alive
struck into being
by a bolt of lightning
constructed of metal
and feeling like a rental
and so I read
and so I feed
and so I drive
and so I thrive
but what is life
without a laser, a phaser, a taser
every day now,
another one comes
with smiling faces
shot in happy places
filled with happy couples
looking devoid of troubles.
but an honest card came today
obstaining from
pictures,
places,
smiling faces;
speaking of
illness,
pain,
divorce,
death
hurrying to get through the letter
hurrying to get through the holidays
looking for hope in a new year
with no reason to hope that
anything will ever be any different.
mumbled along numbered grids
filled and spaced till everything
matched perfectly like a complex
game of logic
and tripped we did
our feet through the cobble
stone
the melodies rolling off your tongue
rhapsodical and fleeting
halfhearted lullabies
sung under your breath
the chemicals driving the motors
of your throat
ah, the whole worlds laughing
poet philosopher
sitting in your liars chair
humming your whiskey tunes
your face beaten by the roads
you’re already too tired
to travel.
