Getting My Breath

We are in the age of raging time, rhyme and reason down the drain with our coffee grinds, quick views and videos, terror on the tubes, smart-mouths cursing between commercials repeating Breaking News. Find somehow a parking place, stand in line, glazed over, gulp a drink, make smiling face, chew on a Something Burger, Spray underarm deodorant so your sweat smells sweet— sit at the computer, tap away, sinking in your seat-- gaze at the little icons, brand them in your brain; wash the car to guarantee a bath in Acid Rain; set alarm and throw it down, put body in a shower, Stop a minute! Cries the churchman— time to smell a flower! Time to look in someone’s eyes, Past the flickering nod, to run through open fields again, to contemplate a God—. Cook your dinner, stub your toe, write bills --small change keep— moments touching tender skin through packages of sleep--- stand aloof and shy because you said the wrong damn thing: watch a Sitcom, sponsored by all your plastic things— O what to tell the child inside that still believes in dreams? (O young girl, and O young boy, deafened by the screams?) As for Romance-- not a chance though still a wavering ray of Light I see: I’d like a Knight to carry me away. But if I were innocent Maiden Fair, with bosom bound in silk, the men on my street would rape me down for Heroin and Coke. I’ve no time to quaff the wine, can barely wash my hair, and the clocks tick on as my life winds down running down the stair— (and in the store, a pregnant clerk is not allowed a chair…) So all of us are forced to stand And Never Can Sit Down: the ants in ant-mounds ---better off--- hurrying around. I’m out of breath I’m out of time -- there was so much to say I always thought I’d get the chance But life just breathed away. JVB U of Louisiana @ Lafayette 1998