Waving BonesBlack cloth, white neck white specks sprinkle his shoulder like snow in July while air conditioners blow wet hair from furrowed brows, sweat-stain rivers God has plowed. Fisher-Price people fill his pews, each peg in their hole waiting for their cues to sit or stand. he feels his hand tremble, his thick-lensed scrutiny of the assembled petitioners of prayer, flakes fall from his hair like the sin-microbes he searches for, a Christian scientist, a surgeon for the lord. his head a strip-mined mountain sparsely covered with graying strands, his hands desperately grip the book which gives directions, orders from heaven. others prefer the evening paper to map out their world, a different plot with plenty of hot action; car crashes and murder and tits as solid as wisps of smoke or the ghost of the Jew that hangs on the wall and bleeds on his pages staining them red while from his head the flakes still fall as the room grows colder he shivers, though sure of his eternal reward he fears that final tap on the shoulder. Priests wave bones and give benediction but the truth is still that all truth is fiction. I'm Still AliveEvery morning, death is there to greet me, cheerfully tipping his hat as I brush my teeth. I'm still alive. Every morning, death smiles and waves to me from the back of my cereal box. I'm still alive. Every day brings opportunities for death to slip in the back door. The moon collapses, the sun explodes, airplanes fly right through your window. Every evening, death tucks me into bed and kisses my ear. I'm still alive. Every day I'm a survivor, yet still I twiddle my thumbs, pick my ass, and stare blindly out the window. You Want Fries or Cole Slaw With That? |