Falling asleep seems more like a chore these days than it does a privilege.
But I do suppose that's the advantages we take for granted, or at least I do. The sounds of destruction slither into my ear, "Bombers kill dozens in Iraq as fear of new violence rises." "A series of night time raids in recent months killing women and children."
While all along there I lay wrapped in the silence and contentment of my room.
Proceeding to dress, while the words of destruction have an opposite effect and seem to compose me over. Am I less human because of this? The dis-taste for the first glance of sun rays quickly changes, the only thing to do now is to embrace it. Dashing down the familiar route to get to the familiar job. But, the sirens and rumbles of motorcycles and police sirens were not familiar. They marched down with sorrow and pride in their faces, each face expressed horror.
I wanted a piece of it.
Shakes from the engines shook me an inch away from my bike and as I tried to regain balance, he rode by...
Gray hairs polluted his head. Each strand showed tales of all the lovers he racked up in his age. Oh, How those women wear you down. Who was the first one to break his heart? Who whispered "love you" as they layed in the bliss which only beds provide. His love, was now his motorcycle and as he glanced over at me. Slowly he smiled with tears in his eyes. His cracked lips blew a brittle smile my way. Raising one hand up without much thought I whispered "I love you".
That crisp mouth fell and he wishpered it back.
Tipping my bicycle to side and letting the steel hit the concrete, walking over and jumping onto his rusty motorcycle. I wrapped my hands around his fragile & broken body without selling myself short with childish words. Just holding on as we made way to the cemetery to bury another one of the things he loved.
The end of the parade was now well on it's way, the light was green and the blaring horns behind me snapped me back into reality.
Down to Brazos Street where the people must receive their treats.
Farewell Motorcade Parade.
But I do suppose that's the advantages we take for granted, or at least I do. The sounds of destruction slither into my ear, "Bombers kill dozens in Iraq as fear of new violence rises." "A series of night time raids in recent months killing women and children."
While all along there I lay wrapped in the silence and contentment of my room.
Proceeding to dress, while the words of destruction have an opposite effect and seem to compose me over. Am I less human because of this? The dis-taste for the first glance of sun rays quickly changes, the only thing to do now is to embrace it. Dashing down the familiar route to get to the familiar job. But, the sirens and rumbles of motorcycles and police sirens were not familiar. They marched down with sorrow and pride in their faces, each face expressed horror.
I wanted a piece of it.
Shakes from the engines shook me an inch away from my bike and as I tried to regain balance, he rode by...
Gray hairs polluted his head. Each strand showed tales of all the lovers he racked up in his age. Oh, How those women wear you down. Who was the first one to break his heart? Who whispered "love you" as they layed in the bliss which only beds provide. His love, was now his motorcycle and as he glanced over at me. Slowly he smiled with tears in his eyes. His cracked lips blew a brittle smile my way. Raising one hand up without much thought I whispered "I love you".
That crisp mouth fell and he wishpered it back.
Tipping my bicycle to side and letting the steel hit the concrete, walking over and jumping onto his rusty motorcycle. I wrapped my hands around his fragile & broken body without selling myself short with childish words. Just holding on as we made way to the cemetery to bury another one of the things he loved.
The end of the parade was now well on it's way, the light was green and the blaring horns behind me snapped me back into reality.
Down to Brazos Street where the people must receive their treats.
Farewell Motorcade Parade.
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