The Empty Streets of Our Dreams
Pray for the end of closing statements, for the end of gadgets that keep us hopping,the mental health profession and the abundance of madness, lockdown confinement, the electric chair, the hangman’s noose, the lethal injection, the tight rein and the loose tongue, dupes and delirium and dropsy, camouflaged love and blindside allegiance, the lost boys and the brown frown of sorrow, the handsome brown-eyed man, the girls he’s kissed and their lottery children.
Pray for the end of sinister plots, the worms of misfortune, built-in obsolescence and germ warfare, cowards in foxholes, and the skittish converts to synergy. For the end of the whacked out and won over, the whimsy wish and the stern upper hand, the cluster fuck, cluster bomb and the big bang in the bad lands of the dove.
Pray that the empty streets of our dreams become free of pot holes and strewn with rose petals and soft music.
