The patio lights twinkle, once intended
For the soft wink of Christmas lights
Now back drop the August nights.
Near a neon CN Tower and
Trinity Bellwood’s streetlight.
We fight the fight
Everyone wants a piece of the cake.
In the end we rub the wounds from our knees,
Maybe dessert should come first.
We flee from the table.
Flinging wooden chairs,
Twinkling silverware moon rays.
Tonight there’s blood on the moon,
And the news rattles on about swine flu,
There’s connoisseurs tasting myriads of brews,
And then there is you,
And then there is me,
And then there is the world we see.
I’m sure the sun will come up
Not every wink is corrupt.
It was easy as
One, Two, Three, Seven
And it terrified them.
Witness to those before,
How children view love spattered gore.
You cannot become what you fear.
I’m not afraid.
They pour into a myriad of
Teeth and neck.
Connection is but a fleck
Like the stars in the sky.
Shut out by smog
And the steady crank of electricity.
The lens refracts light into a ROYGBIV prison,
Emotion classified by the color spectrum.
Let’s continue where we left off.