Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Charles and Diana did not make it to 34, either

The dirt from my forearm
has stained this desktop into a work patina
Determined years of rest and sweat with
the advancement of scroll finger arthritis
An occasional twinge of notice
there has been nothing from you
on my screen for half of the hours
our battery wires touched before corrosion set in
The acid in the gorge between us damaged any
traditional thirty year pearl past hope of recovery

Your release of a guillotine curtain was the final act
that slammed down any remaining impressions
of whatever joy I kept in a picture frame
Aftershock fragments bounce over the skyline of the city you left
There’s only absence seen through the side mirror
It’s hard to steer away when my hands hurt
Cannot tell if it’s age or road rage
Sympathies never exchanged
after the deaths of relatives, friends
Now we are separated by light years

You constructed the wall you thought I played hide and seek behind
Blocked me out with the skills of the best defensemen
Of course there will not be a gift to celebrate how naive we were
Did we expect anything less from each other
after all this neglect and decay?
When the officiant’s seeing eye dog barked
in the office we all crammed into
I was not listening, always short sighted
Never smelt the fragrance of lilies
on that day we joked about blind justice

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