"When I was born, everybody died."
Fuck them anyway, I motioned with a too obscure
finger pointed toward the stars and stripes mobile
above a fiery crib that played pinesome notes
upon my still soft and bald scalp.
Twist and turn around the whistling spark
that springs to speak its comfort while only
I really understand his language,
the language of heartiness, or perhaps no one
is allowed to have that since King Richard
the Lionhearted. Maybe he was the last one.
I'm reminded of an empty library tale, a story
that was meant to inspire a moral of split sides
and lack of Odyssean humors.
"Yesterday was the last day / we would bow to pray."
They don't believe in God anymore, and why should they
when the ground between left and right and north and west
splits like spun sugar in a cheap Hollywood thriller
starring Heath Ledger and Brittany Murphy.
They knew it the best, I suppose.
Someone sang "Bye, bye, Miss American Pie" while
I skirted the seat over by the football field.
But that's too precious.
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