Every Civilization Speaks the Language of Goodbyes
How many ancient civilizations have mysteriously disappeared,
leaving behind nothing but jagged shards of existence—
pottery, weapons, haunted bones.
How many unanswerable questions have been dug up
by those seeking to understand generations of departures.
Another billionaire went to space today
because emptiness is a siren's call,
the spaces between stars filled with the music of ghosts.
"To be human is to leave," is what you said.
But I just read about the 2800-year-old kiss,
two skeletons found buried in a permanent embrace.
Then again, maybe they died trying to escape each other.
I've run out of gas. Stuck in this ghost town
called The Part of You that Loved Me.
Radio Silence
Driving down this desert highway,
darkness descending.
The neon lights on an isolated gas station
glow blue, a beacon to the lost and lonely.
The gas will cost twice as much
and dust covers the bags of stale potato chips
and the beer is two months expired.
You'll pay for the gas anyway
because what choice do you have.
And you'll buy the stale potato chips
and expired beer, anything to fill
the passenger seat.
You continue on, the hours ticking by
with the rotation of your tires,
the surrounding emptiness
mirroring your own.
You search for a radio station
but find mostly static.
The handful of stations that do come through
are Spanish or Christian
and you feel guilty for not knowing
the language of your ancestors
or being a good Catholic girl
and you want to pull off the highway,
find a spot to bury your sins
where no one can find them
but then you think you should bury yourself
because your sins always
find a way back to you.
You turn the radio off,
opt for the hum of the motor
and the howling of the wind.
Driving down this desert highway,
darkness descending,
the cholla and brush dancing ghosts,
beckoning you to the land of the forgotten
but you ignore them and continue on,
chasing the sunset towards forgiveness.
The Problem With D
Not the D you might be thinking of
if your mind is down where it shouldn't be.
Disappointment, when you're drowning in it
and all the dreams that didn't come true.
Disappearance, and doesn't everyone
come and go, some never to be found again
and you're forever haunted by the ghost
of everything out of reach.
Divorce—the death of love—
because sometimes the D of your dirty mind
doesn't know how to stay down
or someone desires another D
or damn it, love just isn't enough.
Desire, well, how much trouble does that cause—
driving you insane, driving you down
dangerous roads, driving you to drink.
Drink, when you don't know how to stop
until you drop, hit rock bottom
and what a disappointment you've become and
sometimes this leads to divorce.
Damage, to your brain, your heart, your body,
your relationships, and what is left of you
but a damned soul.
Death, the worst of the lot, dealing dice
and more often than not, you're on the losing end—
find yourself six feet down
before you can even say "don't do it."
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