Marge Smoking

Can’t Have it

 

Blessed sacraments disguised as crushed junior mints

Lay on the linoleum floor at the holy K-Mart.

Everywhere you look is the smell of shit

Everywhere you sniff you smell the dark.

May as well….

Sit and soak at home

Blowing civil breath across the teeth

Kissing a coward culture

That crawls across the floor

Licking dropped dimes

It’s not much

And it’s not all there is.

Can anyone find ease after

Becoming an orphan?

Gut shot in the brain

Singing in the key of blue

With no wind in the mail.

 

Instead….

Go outside and see

If you ripen in the sun

Like a Sarasota orange

Bathe in a warm river

So you can feel your skin tighten as it dries

Thinking God must have wanted this

But that ain’t it.

Please Stop sailing that ship

In the sour milk

Flying high above the pain

Looking with the scientific eye

At our suffering.

 

Or ……..

Fall in love

With the rarest of souls

Carried in an envelope of genetic perfection

Breed demi-Gods

Leave the world

A better bloody place

You still won’t have it

That’s not it.

Alright…..

Go look at the Taj Majal

Spin silk from earwax

Feel the hurts healed

Put them in the glove box

Of a passing cloud

So that your pulse

Gets from zero to inner peace

In three seconds flat

Doesn’t matter

You still don’t have it

That’s not all there is.

The clock’s arms

Signal an end

And the ticking heart docks

All the stops are abrupt.

Collaborative treasures

Are all that you hold now

Wrapped in cotton

Like some shaking child.

It …..is fugitive

Trying to touch it

Only spreads it

Like gelatin

On a river bottom.

Joshua Kight 10/3/11