Her Name Was Rose
he looked at the gun double barreled and lean
but it was an old water pistol from his childhood
the rope around his neck had become a bunjee
and he bounced between floor boards and ceiling
the stove was a joke and fueled by laughing gas
so he giggled his epitaph and refused to inhale
Jesus had parted the waters so drowning was out
the coarse sand in his throat only made him vomit
should have filled the car tank when he had money
the garden hose was therefore absolved from misuse
an overdose of emotions failed to find rational ground
he was a loser caught between harmony and despair
‘all odds are against me and that is the story of my life’
disconnected out of control and unbearably empty
he found some old bubble gum in his treasure chest
chewed calmly and tasted cinnamon and cotton wool
‘misperception’ he cursed as the chew candy dissolved
‘should have opted for gobstoppers when I still had a choice’
‘life sucks and boiled sweets are distastefully overrated’
not fit for purpose as he failed to choke and surrender
he had be so preoccupied that he had failed to notice
a single rose that his friend had draped on the pine tree
evergreen and potent ‘maybe I barked up the wrong tree’
a heart in its bark reminded him that there was love after all
07th August 2020
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