revolution flashbacks

we made bottomless dreams

of household products,

 

set fire to our fuses,

and went out looking

for a reason to explode.

 

I rode with her

to the vegetarian festival.

we stopped for Whoppers

on the way.

 

they tasted like salted lies.

 

it was a cool, clear puddle

of a show:

 

wildfire on the ceiling,

eyes floating around like shellshock ducks,

and a stylish corporate crucifixion

for the finale.

 

I kissed you during

the fireworks;

missed the resurrection

by a tiny tickle,

and slept in the bed

of a rusty pickup.

 

the next morning

many town folk reported

zombies on West Main,

 

but it was only us

walking to the coffee shop

in our frumpy, dirty

church duds.

 

luckily,

nobody got shot

in the head.

 

 

 

Reviews

[roarke]

I want to hear more about the shellshocked ducks.....

I wish I had experienced the experiences as the happened in this poetic perspective. fortunately, we protect the life, the creative verve and are able to give these moment due justice.

very well told.

[Kenneth The Poet]

Bonnie and Clyde from the alterverse.

[Robin]

Idealism and hypocrisy in a twilight tango dancing to the beat of try try try

[.]

whoppers always taste that way..