The ballet

Stuck in a downward circle like
a dancing, dying cockroach or
a spoon stuck in a garbage disposal.
Stuck in this excitement and hip
hopping around all the living that
has yet to happen. Spend the next
day slugging back black Costco brand
coffee, batting eyes, resting my
face on greasy hands and
waiting to be more awake.
So I can live.

If I had my own business
cards they would read Professional
Sleepwalker, they would be black
with white ink
and I would hand them out to
all the other zombies
and ghouls that walk
with me wherever I go
among the mist
among the tall thin trees
where we play hide and seek
with our souls.

Why do cockroaches run
from the light
why can’t I stop thinking about you
why won’t we get an exterminator
to make it all stop.
I need a soul exterminator to make
all the bad things stop.
Could I make a cockroach
ballet and dress them all
up in ivory and pink dresses
and make them dance,
charge admission,
and be one of those weird
and abnormal sideshows
next to the main tent
with the elephants and lions
and crazy haired men.

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One thought on “The ballet

  1. rootchopper says:

    Okay, maybe I was wrong about the weird thing. :-)

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