Thursday, 4 April 2013

4. Do you?

Do you believe in roads and pennies and past lives
in magic carpets and genies
in the concept of a Holy Land
the prevalence of broken bottles
and the smell of the sun?

Do you believe that snow melts in springtime?
Do you believe in dinosaurs (I do)?

Do you believe that broken glass is the godson of gracious ladies,
that time turns like a screw driving into thick wood,
that even shavings could catch fire
if you stood before them with a magnifying glass
waiting for the sun to emerge from its home in the cloud?

Would you break a date with a guinea pig
before you'd tell the world the truth about your crotchety turd heart,
would you just cancel, straight up, like neon, flickering, fut?

It's so hard to watch the bulbs die
but nothing lasts forever,
not even the aftereffects of gold.

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