Carissima In Deliciis

¡Qué hermosa y qué encantadora eres, amor mío, con todos tus encantos!

Published Sunday, August 19, 2007 by O. Elias Lira | E-mail this post

Times Square by Decomprose

Escalators push you up,
ease you down as your faces
remain the same. And you
dangle your coffee cups
on old dowel rod holders.
Your cars push interstates,
rumbling dull songs inside.
In jets, you bind yourselves
into numbered seats. Long
nights make you read reality
tv as you awake to realizing
there are do’s you’ve forgotten
to do. Then you yawn, complain
at the same time. Your futures
are hums. Your elementary
teachers make your kids color
numbers of Santa Clauses to teach
math. Your two dogs per family
need to be groomed. Purses
are getting bigger. Your
nudes all have heavier lips.
The baby Jesus’ are starting to
look like they are lying within
rich caskets instead of mangers.
With golden hairs on their bald
heads. Your men cry and your
woman don’t. All Iraqis look
colored now. Your doctors are
lost in their figures of minutes
per visit. January, now your
cruelest month, has bills that eat
away at your deflation. Presidents
too are just mathematical figures.
This noise is your aged carol.
In your houses, locked, bolted
and taped, you’re scared.
So, you pray a whole lot.

[Your Time Is Now A Foul Season: Daniel Gallik]