Postcard

by on June 9, 2008 :: 0 comments

Our sunshine turns the air orange
We wheeze and grin
And take it all in
We’re fighting over apples
In the produce section
We’re roasting
Beneath the sun’s convection
We’re melting on concrete
Wish you were here

We’re scrambling for sustenance
Bony, brain dead children
Are eating dust
And shitting blood
Our ground is saturated
By the floods
We’re surrounded by decrepitude
And rust
Wish you were here

We’re pushing through it
Bringing joy and angst to it
Yes, it sucks
But we make the ducks
Which trim the tops of our Mohawks
We’re strong together
We’ve learned to absorb the shocks
Wish you were here

We’re wondering about the reckoning
The penalty for heeding the beckoning
Seeing the wonder
Consuming the plunder
We’re pondering the question
“How?” and “Why?”
And submitting our suggestion
Couldn’t it be different?
Couldn’t there be change?
Would that be too dissident
Too alien and strange?
We’d like to talk it over
A path to walk it over
Wish you were here

We feel the pain, we hear it
The children giving up the spirit
The humiliation, the shame
The crying of shattered souls
The passing of fathers
The filling of holes
The struggle to make sense
Of the silence and perceived indifference
We need to bear that
Someone to share that
Wish you were here

Leave a Reply