Actually, I’ve decided it’s a good thing to be off
because I’m tired of being on but I know
certainly, IT will find me, in the thick
downing white wine on a night where I’m boogying to the music
everywhere and it will be enough; it will be
forgettable in an unforgettable way; in the most
gorgeous way, because I will hold it with my
hands; hold it by the seat of its pants and
I will love it to the ground. First, in envy, and then in
jealousy. I will bash its brains out; I will
kill it; make it late for supper; give it a wedgie; I will
laugh in its face and kick it in the nuts. Being
mean will feel soooo good – finally – and in time, I’m sure,
nostalgia will settle on our couch like a dear
old friend; and we will laugh at the way I gave it a
purple eye; and we will hold each other close; and
quiet those later-demons; those sullen misfits
rapturing up the past like a bulldozer in the morn;
sullied in my remembering, I will invite this chaos in for
tea, but I digress, I won’t suppress, now, back to the beating. It will
unequivocally deserve what it gets after leaving me: fielded. Alone.
vaulting my heart up to any star’s arms, any star’s hungry fangs.
won’t it feel good to start blood from your nose; to
ex-communicate you from your shenanigans; and show
you how sorry you’ll be for missing what I’ve had to give all these years.
“ZOUNDS!” you’ll say; and then you’ll give us a kiss that was way overdue.
© Umansky 2012
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