Things Fall Apart Anyway
The flaming
cup.
The wayward
impulse.
The smashed
compass dead
reckoning the
educated guess.
The gentleman’s
agreement twenty
paces pivot
& fire.
Ladies in
waiting
widows in
mourning the
day the
angels sang
civilization’s
game plan.
Out with
tree frogs
& Mexicans.
In with
CEOs &
ventriloquists.
High-rise
heaven bottled
water &
snake oil.
Eskimos on
ice polar
bears in
a zoo.
There’s a
safe zone
for anyone
with
fingerprints
& a
passport
a stacked
deck &
a loaded
gun a
circumcision
& a
diaphragm.
I’m sorry
I keep
missing Sunday
football sorry
I don’t
put up
a Christmas
tree sorry
I haven’t
succumbed
to the
pressure.
But at
least you
won’t have
to put
up a
monument or
scrape my
remains into
a coffin.
I plan
to die
in the
wilderness
with a
white
fox &
a crow.
I plan
to return
to the
earth in
increments.
I know,
on one
level this
leaves you
feeling cheated,
but things
were bound
to fall
apart anyway.