After you find your body floating
Down the river, pluck leaves
From the armpit & decide to put
It back on, sheets of rain upflame
The shore water. Branches bend,
Fingertipping the brown murk.
I will kiss all of the sincerity off
Of you, polish your eyelids with
Hot breath, the incessant fever
Of a survivor of the potato famine.
Let me be your guiding fright, your
Highway to the comfort zone.
On the bridge above, no one knows
What to do about the busted levees,
But everyone is comfortable,
Surrounded by all the crap
They bought yesterday
At Wal-Mart. A fault line
Zigzags through town.
The default setting is one
More, please. It is yes,
One more helping!
We planned to help
But forgot which day
The innocent criminal
Was being put to death.
We pretend to read
The newspaper to the blind
Because we never learned
To read. Grossly overestimate
How much we need to sleep.
If there really is a beginning
& then an everlasting struggle
To know the unknowable,
The tunnel at the other end
Will open on Thirsty Thursday.
A deep need to see it all
Differently will crack through
The bar each time someone
Strikes the eight ball. Because
You are so sad, I will give
Up my love for Lucifer.
[Alex Lemon {1978- } 'redux' from Fancy Beasts]
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