Pasta

The idiot faces the crowd with a smile
Wishing it will go
So it goes and goes
Still to the same unknown
Wondering what?
You try to grasp yourself
It's here
It's there
It's everywhere.
It won't allow a firm foothold
By giving you a firm hold
Watching her tin box
The stoop
The plane
Lilies and rifles and grenades and head wounds
Your ear hanging
Bleeding to salt taste your lips
You can't feel it.
It bleeds and bleeds and bleeds
Your arm so that bleeds to eyes
That can't see cause that's where you see from.
Sockets are broken so it bleeds and bleeds
Since they don't cry
You dunno why
Thus it swells and swells.
You put your hand across
Wishing she won't see but she does
Making you guess why you know she's not
But there in the ground
Maybe in a jar over a sink that has flowers
A light that stays on all the time
Making them still think of her
As they wash the dishes
Smelling her sweet ammonia
Lasagna
Burning their eyes
And making their nose run
So you tell you to smile
Needing to take a long run.
You can't do that any more
As your eyes burn
And they burn
And they burn
And your nose runs
And runs and runs.
You try
Keeping your mouth closed
It opens and opens
Making you slobber dumber
Then you are now.

by

Carl D Schultz