The Final Act

by June 7, 2023 0 comments

Look outside,
there’s a little sun left over the bay.
If you’re still hungry stick a hook through my lip
and cast me out.
I’ll hold my breath and sink to the bottom,
dig my feet into the sand
until a clam bites my big toe.
If I find enough we can take the catch
to New York
and sell it on the old Bowery.
There’s a tent there with a tank
full of dead manatees called
The Mermaid Mausoleum.
My mom took me to see it on my sixth birthday.
The ticket came with a free photograph
and a piece of Bubble Yum.
Maybe my picture is still on the wall.
Maybe we can refill my well of hate
that’s been running dry for years.
The sun’s gone down now.
No planes.
No moon.
It’s seemed like the end of my whole life I think.
And tonight I’ll go to sleep under stars
dead before the first man,
wondering why it’s taken so long for us,
hoping the credits roll soon.

– Scott Laudati

editors note:

Lights, long gone out, await our demise; both lingering. – mh clay

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