Pluto

13 September 2013

There is such an element of freedom in "'a'pathy."

True apathy is a claw foot bathtub filled just to
your nostrils--
one swift inhale and the ship goes down in watery flames.

But in feigned apathy lies the way of the
emancipated slaves always
toiling under a sun too warm to give light.

In feigned apathy lies the way of the cross in the crossroads
onto which
you are tied--not nailed--like bondage because
penetration is too intimate, especially of palms and
this is the foreplay that comes before you are buried alive

in a cozy casket not unlike the
womb through which you shot forth of
somebody else's volition.

And around you beamed the faces of
pride and joy and "This is the happiest day
of my life" and yet
indifference. Because
who knew at the time your favorite ice
cream flavor would be Rocky Road and even more
who would know that your favorite ice cream flavor is
Rocky Road when you tell people it is vanilla?

If exhibition is asphyxiation indifference is
resuscitation, the
resurrection of the dead brought back to
death to
live lives with their hands
held up in front of their faces.

"I'm not made of glass,"
said the Gentleman Caller

said you as you were swept off the
table and landed shards-down on the floor.

Everybody wants to be a poet but we,
we want to be astronauts.

Looking at photographs of the larger planets
in our solar system often makes me cry so I

pretend that I like Pluto best anyway,
also because it is the coldest planet or so
I was told on the internet.

They fight every night for
the right
to bear arms,
but we,
we lay down our Tommy guns and
walk hands extended into battle because
"We don't care" whether tonight is the best or last
of our lives.

There is such liberation in a feigned stony face, in a
straight-lipped glance in the other direction when
your "lover" crosses your path on the street.

Liberation because you have everything with the
illusion of nothing.

And nothing with the illusion of

everything.

We have our cake and eat it too and then

stick toothbrushes down our throats to induce
vomiting when the party guests
have gone home because

we've forgotten whether or not we
even had a sweet tooth to begin with.