Poetry/Prose

The New Worlds

Image credit: Orbit Runway by ANTIFAN-REAL (Gary Tonge)

Image credit: Orbit Runway by ANTIFAN-REAL (Gary Tonge)

We all build bridges

Between the worlds we meet

 

Some

More than others

Stand firm

On soil of their knowing

Their life

Their history

Their world

Their solid state machismo (?)

Overdriving their hills and valleys

Yawning at sunrises and sunsets

The bridges–secondary concerns

 

Wise build bridges to last

Their world’s lifeline

 

Some living otherwise

Build bridges

Only to race the rockets

Between their legs

Meanwhile

People make bets

Get high

Take money

Use and use and use

What a … thrill?

Those bridges crumble

Shrug their shoulders

 

Turn a few degrees

Spy another world

Hit replay

Mock the inevitable rejection

 

No contracts

For the insincere

 

My friend:

Worlds don’t touch

Without a bridge

What’s the point?

If it doesn’t last

 

Sincere …

We are not crazy

Except to the insincere

Who label us readily

When we’re forced to cry out

 

“Look here!”

“What beautiful, palpable architecture!”

“Feel here!”

“What connects,

protects

our hearts!”

The urgency builds

The race of everyone

Hypnotized by shiny machismo

 

They lasso their hearts

To objects

Appearances

Fleeting pleasures

That evade their grasp

A little more

With every passing day

 

Whoever they are

Takes off their hardhat

Scratches their head

One last time

 

Packed overnight bags

And redeyes

Back home

Just after

They turn their gaze

For an instant

To what will sadly be

Future entertainment

 

They’ll get old soon

Everyone does

And their kingdom will be

Of rickety, rope structures

Slung between

The spreading legs

Lifting rockets

That always land

 

In double cocktails

Pure powders

Of cheaper yet more expensive

Worlds

Too proud and old to think:

 

Was any of it rope or rock?

One always finds out

Better sooner

First dates hold the blueprints

In their fickle hands

 

Anyway, either way:

Who’s going to stop them?

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