closing the epilogue ticket window

and every question lingers
like a seed waiting for answers
in cycles of the raining
paint from ceilings
disguised as skies
I only know to come here
when I am thirsty
with just my soul in tow
bagging life with what
my handkerchief catches
strung on a pole
over my shoulder
walking the miles
of ugly stick kingdoms
just to get a glimpse
of the air I want to breathe

stumble in the morning
loosening myself with caffeine
didn’t want to write
as much as act and direct
though I know these are
mere surface wounds
compared to poetry
short stories
little vignettes
of blood-letting
and theatrical absurdity

every scene
is a cut away
from here
from now
as the prologues
have taken over
and the stage is dark
curtains drawn
with voices
having all
the low reaches
getting high
somehow means
when we screen
ourselves a destination
as politics
and the journey
as the infidel

every saint to sinner
has come for dinner
has come for what we tell
the empty in the audience
day after night
without saying Love
will make things right

because
they know
as do we
there are
certain things
we must stay
hungry with
in order
to eat destiny

EJR ©
poem 116 of a poem a day for 2012 (NaPoWriMo4)