Tuesday, April 24, 2012

last in line


it is not a crime
to be last in line
in someone's mind.

it is a shame
to be last in line
in yours.


to be last in line,
a meaning
altered over time.
children are told
where they should go
and the last is forgotten,
subjected to ridicule.

at fifteen
the last grows mad,
paints her fingernails black,
makes love to a razor
and never looks back
at the world
that didn't look back for her.

into adulthood
and it's the hell with you,
on no one's wait list
and confined to solitary musing,
slowly falling back
to last in your own mind.


in someone's mind
is the wish;
better yet,
in the heart
and stuck there,
adhesive affections.


it is a shame,
the connotations
of last place
that have become standard.

last is nobody's
favorite number,
yet it's never least?
an unfair juxtaposition.

sometimes last
wins the race
but it never feels like victory.


to be last in line,
every time;
it's draining
to remain there
in the mind.


in yours
i have always been last
in mine
you have always been first.

it is not a crime but
it is a shame.


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