The Transformation of Honesty
Honesty comes in like an X factor and blows the whole equation sky high. Down tumble enigmas and mysteries to the 10th power. Up go the flags, the jets, the caution genes.
Honesty boils down to a question mark. The first moment of leisure, that’s where the trouble started. The club came along afterward.
Wheel and deal, round rocks and card games. Roll into town in your chariot, help yourself to the women. Send a message back to Armageddon—we won’t be back til it’s over over there. Or over here. There from where you stand, here from where the blood flows in rivers. When we step off the plane into the bright sun of the homeland we’ll have the war stuck up our assholes like smuggled drugs.
Dress honesty in elaboration, frail naked child with a birthmark. Deck her out in theorems and direct her gaze to the sky. “Up, up and away,” whisper that in her virgin ear. Stitch wings to her shoulder blades. Replace her blue eyes with radar, her pure heart with technology.
Take her harp away, her head full of lullabies, all that useless junk. Tell her she can’t go on this way, but there is a way that she can go on, please lie down in this incubator. When the bell dings and she rises up again, she’ll be a new woman, even if she can’t dance. She’ll be the Queen of the Future, she won’t need a name. Fly her to the stars, let her take on the universe with her rewired gadgetry.
She’s not going to conquer death, but she’ll render it obsolete, and you’ll get to live forever. Not live exactly, but close enough. You’ll be like Superman in a comic book, making a joke out of gravity.
