The Loss Factor

The ravage of time leaves battered those
that fail to accept its brutality
and choose to ignore its influence.

The world ends for all of us.
And it runs fast
like the blade of a diamond saw.
If you think you're strong enough,
and if you have doubts,
then bring your hands forth,
and you will be cut.

Death is an essential part of who we are
and it is something
that our busy, ordinary lives tempt us to forget.

Not until we lose someone close
or toe the line ourselves
do we remember
how very real and permanent it is.

And it is important to remember.

It is the fleeting immediacy of life
that pours the foundation
of the soul.

It is from this one, unflinching slab of stone
that we build ourselves
and gauge our progress.

Its transience permits us to comprehend the weight of things.

It allows us to cherish our time alone
and with others.

It allows us to prioritize our moments.

It allows us to acknowledge which experiences,
and which people
are worth fighting for.

My friends, we must never overlook
what a privelege it is

to feel the warmth of the morning sun
on our faces.

 

Honey Dews

 

There's an acidic taste to unripe strawberries
that can stir up your senses
like the faint scream of a blender.

Lately I've been taking bets on
grocery store honey dew melons,
which unsurprisingly so,
have almost all come up short.

Eating a bad honey dew
is like eating wet styrofoam.
It's like eating a dry, crunchy, gypsum sponge
that has been soaking in the limelight of a
middle-aged emerald,
floating in a stale, tropical lagoon.

The absence of flavor is astonishing.

It often takes the role of iceberg's slutty cousin,
wearing nothing but a wicker rind and some
sweet, misleading perfume.

Truth be told,
the honeydew smells better than she tastes.

And when I'm exploring a buffet,
and the honey dew is outside its natural habitat,
frolicking among a cornacopia of
kiwis, pineapples
and other tropical fructose,
I always strike my throngs into her mellow bosom
and give her an equal chance.

And if she beats the odds and actually delivers,
I make it a priority to spread the word.

"The honey dew is good," I will say,
"it's not crunchy and bland. It's pretty good this time."

However, despite the occassional revelation,
most of the retail store honey dews
I've breached
have fallen flat.

And more often than not,
the words of my memory are rendered strong:

Don't ever palaver with melons that
are manufactured to please the masses.

To eat one is to absorb the curse
of mediocrity. 

The Cracker Barrel

 -------------------------------------------------------

 

Recently, I went to that restaurant
The Cracker Barrel
and ordered a barrel of crackers.

They did not have them.

That's false advertising.

That makes me want to open up a store called
The Burrito Pyramid
that only serves spaghetti.

"Sorry sir. We only serve spaghetti at
The Burrito Pyramid.
If you want burritos, you're gonna have to go to
The Lobster Coffin."

Another Day Survived

with his brittle fingers buried into the hillside,
the old man pulled himself from the crevice,
his shoulders cracking like clay bricks baking in the sun.

dirt creased the lines on his face,
and as he pulled himself upwards he clenched his jaw rigid,
grinding his teeth to chalk dust. 

with every last moral fiber
he pulled himself from the depths of hell,
looking not to the horizon
but to the ground, inches before him.

and upon reaching the top
he swallowed a thick piece of air
and gave a warm embrace to the soil he'd been under
for so many years. 

and there on his knees,
bloody and burned,
beaten and spurned,
he drew a single match from his boot,
struck it across a flintstone
and set fire to the slippery, black oil that soaked his clothing
and coated his skin.

and as he became engulfed in flames
 the oil receded from
the cracks in his hands,
and the cool wind swept o'er the hillside
and across his sallow skin.

and as the flames sparked and faded away,
shimmering, flickering, and fluttering desperately
like moths in the rain,
he stood up,
brushed the ash from his jacket,
straightened his rusty knees,
closed his eyes,

and walked away.

another day  s u r v i v e d.