tough eggs

it’s frustrating

when you’re trying

to teach your offspring

to fly off

from the nest

when

they are pigeons

the size of bowling balls

with no desire

to put aerodynamics

to the test

together in the mess

what are we guilty of, my friend?

of wanting someone to live our lives with
in exquisite happiness

yet during the quest
we fell prey
to a cunning devil with two heads

false god
who idolizes cult leaders
and genocide-eyed maniacs
loving everything to its
well choreographed death

such a fine male specimen
with
puffed up chest
colorful feathers and phrases
the lure of a nest

but by the time he’s done with us
we all look just like his mother
in her funeral dress

and he
a fool hung from a tarot card
painstakingly oblivious
a perpetual hapless victim

his lies make the knowing angels gag in heaven
as minions of the compromised willing
knit him bullet proof vests

so
we are left

alive
why

stronger than the low hanging fruit
in whose flesh
he’d left his teeth behind
embedded in the past

too intelligent and strong willed to succumb
to his blues man dirge
my best guess

yet i am left with the concrete knowledge
that you are a gift

you and your friendship
are beautiful things
that came
from a blackened this

perhaps the age of our sons made us fight harder
against the rope lashed about our wrists

i don’t care who else believes it

we have another day of life to show for it

and this shared survival
sitting between us

let’s have a shot of whiskey on it
and leave
irreverently joined
glass rings
for others to find

when they open the trunk
and realize

two women survived
a doomed ship
stowed away
together in the mess

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