for the other shoe to drop.
The best of things in life are only props.
Refrigerated mania that stops each time
you open up the door. There must be more.
A way to be that's bold and ever free.
The USA can't offer empathy.
I light another cigarette in praise of liberty.
Watching all the worker bees go by.
Looking out and up, I see them fly.
My heart is beating hard, but slow.
The doctor says he knows what
that is like. He's never had the problem,
yet he chooses to recite more rules to me.
A mushy grasp of hand, and them I'm free
to carry on, although there's not much left
to carry on for me. Bills piled up
while I was lying flat. No one calls
to put me up to bat, not anymore.
My relatives avoid me.
Neighbors rarely choose to knock
upon my door. A heart disease.
They told me that they thought
a virus brought me to my knees.
I told them that I knew the reason why -
he'd walked away and never said goodbye...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .