what are we guilty of, my friend?
of wanting someone to live our lives with
in exquisite happiness
yet during the quest
we fell prey
to a cunning devil with two heads
false god
who idolizes cult leaders
and genocide-eyed maniacs
loving everything to its
well choreographed death
such a fine male specimen
with
puffed up chest
colorful feathers and phrases
the lure of a nest
but by the time he’s done with us
we all look just like his mother
in her funeral dress
and he
a fool hung from a tarot card
painstakingly oblivious
a perpetual hapless victim
his lies make the knowing angels gag in heaven
as minions of the compromised willing
knit him bullet proof vests
so
we are left
alive
why
stronger than the low hanging fruit
in whose flesh
he’d left his teeth behind
embedded in the past
too intelligent and strong willed to succumb
to his blues man dirge
my best guess
yet i am left with the concrete knowledge
that you are a gift
you and your friendship
are beautiful things
that came
from a blackened this
perhaps the age of our sons made us fight harder
against the rope lashed about our wrists
i don’t care who else believes it
we have another day of life to show for it
and this shared survival
sitting between us
let’s have a shot of whiskey on it
and leave
irreverently joined
glass rings
for others to find
when they open the trunk
and realize
two women survived
a doomed ship
stowed away
together in the mess
