Wednesday, August 1, 2012

spinning up violets and roses

even if we can't get out, we can still
be left with all that's here for a thrill,
our favorites of the day and what's more,
all the things we never knew before --
barber poles spinning up violets and roses
mocking the beautiful people in their beautiful poses;
faded signs stuck behind streetlights for show
on roads once run by horses and bankers in-the-know.
on the way down perhaps we'd notice the way
the sun catches in trees in the middle of the day
or even the shine off three-piece suits and magazines
who never understood how to sever the seams
binding them to earth that crumbles 'neath their feet
when we're on our way into orbit, young, complete.
and even if we can't get out we can remember the time
we almost had nice things, infrequently sublime.

didn't we leave a mark in place of our shoes?
they'll come around; we've overpaid our dues.


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