Requiem In Sulpher

I was a firecracker,

way back when,

in the days before I knew what kind of stretch I was looking at.

I used to talk to cab drivers

and smile for no reason

and count my friends in pecks and bushels and bunches.

I tempted fate

and danced all night

and made the first move with my eyes.

I was all

flying tissue streamers

and

“Catch-Me-If-You-Can”

and

“Yeah?-You-Wanna-Bet?”

But there are things you should know

about firecrackers, right?

like,

they only have one fuze

and,

they’re impatient,

and,

in the end,

what you’re left with,

after waiting out the dusk with a lit match,

Is a pile of tissue streamer ash

and the smell of burning.

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16 thoughts on “Requiem In Sulpher

    • Wow, Kim, thanks. I’ve been messing around a little bit with a poetry-like format. Mostly because my brain has only been working in images and short bursts of word picture lately (as opposed to complete sentences describing main ideas–which is what I’d far prefer…) Anyway. Sometimes I feel like it’s a cop-out, considering my usual template, but if it has to come out, it has to come out right?

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