...And the glasses clink clink CLINK

This is my toast to the cataclysm of the cliche!

My glass is raised to knowing

each one of us

has an aborted mirror buried within our intestines

that just needs to be 
dusted off and 
de-rusted

and looked back into:

doe eyes inverted,

Us deers don't need headlights to see

through the dark,

Stoic-eyed and thawed out,

We don't need headlights to see!

We will wake up

and we will be 40

and we will wake up

and we will be 70,

and we will wonder

what we did with the daises of our youth,

why we didn't turn them on their heads
and pin them to our walls,

to watch them dry out;
lose their zest,

in river-rippling reflected symphonies

with us.


 
And we would look up,


turning the lights on just so we wouldn't stumble--
putting tracing paper on and using stencils to draw along the lines and the cracks in our skin,

we'd wring ourselves out

until we were
almost-white
lemons--

wondering if we were finally pure,

wondering if we had lost the cynical sirens of our youth:
blinking our paper-weighted eyelids just to see the emergency lights flicker.

And
the glasses
clink
clink

CLINK--
But not now, not now! 

Let us wake up,

and see with eyes no longer coveted
by frames darkened by precarious pestilence,

mouths no longer barbed by overwrought wires of cat hair and copper,

keeping us forever standing open-mouthed and close-eyed;
aghast at nightfall.




Each clink was a sliver of  cliché's hourglass frame

falling like 1920’s hairpins 

on the black and white checkered linoleum floors of our forgotten childhoods,

And cliché would part her pursed watermelon lips

to take her 

one 

last 

breath 

to call out to us and say:

“Life has handed you lemons

and those lemons were one another.” 

But no one

gets drunk off of 

just lemonade.

Author's Note

unfinished

Reviews

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

Man! This is bold an explosive.
Made me want to jump up and shout!
You are a born leader.