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