Sad Ending

Sad Ending

 

I

The sky called in sick this morning. Her replacement is as white as those bones you see jutting up from the desert sands out west. Wars escalate. Children starve. Inspiration is lying facedown in the cumulative urine on that truckstop bathroom floor on the border between Florida and Alabama. You know, the one with the giant grinning grapefruit on the wall. Some people call that area Floribama. That type of mudfish witticism, spoken with a southern drawl, is what makes northerners think we’re stupid.

 

II

I keep waiting for the forest outside to catch fire, but it just sits there, and smiles like a jack-in-the-box with a worn out spring.

 

III

Just when I believe I’ve risen from my depression, old addictions scratch from beneath the floor, and the dead bodies of suicidal escape plans wash up on the beach. The DNA evidence will all point to me, but you’ll know the truth.  Keep as silent as the setting sun. Let them hang me with my own belt.

 

IV

Tomorrow, the truths we’ve discovered today will become lies, the sky will regain her cocky coloration and you’ll sit in front of an overfull ashtray, wondering if I ever truly loved you. Tomorrow, everything will be better. My hermit crab soul will drift the celestial shoreline, looking to steal a new shell that can get me home to you.

 

V

Watch for my twinkle in the eyes of strangers.

Reviews

[Kenneth The Poet]

This reminds me of a piece by Taylor Mali.