Continental Divide
by Julio Chapluzki
Like a drop of rain,
eastward I flowed;
irresistible current.
i thought you were here but you were not
but i can feel you pulling me down
down into your sweet comfort
down into sugar soaked dreams
my eyes, heavy, catch shadows on the floor
thought i felt you pulling me down
down into would-be memories
down to where we sleep life away
my mind is tired, it needs a rest
i come to look for you again
you are not here, and never were
i made you up just for me.
I do not walk in to your house
with my head held high
and my sword-tip swinging low
for to cut up all the carpeting,
my boots making a mess of things
and all the while a smile across my face
I do not walk in to your house
a pistol in my hand
and a dagger in my fist
with a gun-belt and a bandolier,
and a swagger oh-so-cavalier,
my pomp and pride permeating the place
Outside, though,
I’ll kill you.
every time a table is delivered
on time and craftily built to fit
through a door in my lovely america
my confidence in this country
which failed to serve me butter
this morning for my pancakes
slightly diminishes. i need to return
home briefly, visit the dmv and
allow myself to bask in the misery
that is american red tape so as
to better appreciate this bureaucracy
