Power Struggles

The world is often loud. Arrogant piss accusing the toilet of various conspiracies. I am usually quiet. When I can be. When the rain allows. The waiting comes in so many colors. I can't decide. They think the mistakes I made are me. They are wrong.

The atoms colliding. Quite effortlessly. The bus stopping to let us off. Going. Always going someplace.

We've never been.

The weather toils to wake us. In loud thunderstorms. The world almost ends. Saved by thieves and perverts. She takes off her gown. The wolf has stopped huffing. The photons have ceased emitting. Their hints at what we might see.

The child in cold pajamas wakes up. In his soiled underwear. Certain the world is too close. Or nearing its end. The cat smiles. Too wide to believe. The mirror goes farther than I thought it would. The staircase leading us up. In spoiled gumdrops of when.

The wrapper mattered.


The world slowly opens its jaws. Chewing. On empty baskets. Grandma in her patrimony loses to the fangs. I wish I could take off my shoes and walk through this sand. The edge of the world my defense. But it's out there. It's different. Better. And no one cares.

I'd rather be a communist than a patriot.

I'd rather be a woman than the man she had to forget.

Isn't that what life is. A series of tornadoes punctuated by the snickers of the broken men.