Friday, November 28, 2008

Fuckin Lucky

On the airplane with my squeezed-out heart
and hanging smile,
secret
between gallows pals.

You are so fucking lucky it’s me.

I press my hot forehead to the window.
The pressure will leak through the crack,
there must be a crack
if I apply the right pressure
everything will deflate.

The airplane will disappear from the sky
with an inglorious snicker
and waft to the earth,
a sardine can.

It’s a criminal sadness for a bad girl,
cresting in waves
of nausea and triumph.

No phone calls, no notes but you must know

Those moments were mine
pressed against the brick
your hands clutched
in my punk hair
grasping and breathless
both of us fuckin lucky

under pressure
leaking through the crack
high in the air suspended
by a premise.



1 comment:

Kyle Colona said...

ah this must be the celtic rose, another fair lass from long ago
and since those days we've come upon thistles and thorns
careers blown apart
by corporate hoes
and if and when we safely land
only the Gods know