Cemetery of Symmetry

(Victoria's Insanity)

A place of rest for the lines that refuse to bend

she, a test of things to come, he, a child in her heart
and mild, so far away from God, they spin their dreidels
counting, weighing, and waging every shooting star
Look, she says, pointing at the brightest night fire
We will soon be there again, again, it's a mirror
A wicked game at play, speaking, envious fear
Rise up and meet the phoenix at the gas station
or sink like a stone in a shallow bay, twilight
My God, how good it feels, the cemetery of symmetry ~

Insanito gloats about his quaint brackish pirate days

Looks about the room to see if he's captured an eye at play
what's the worth if he cannot get the hook, the sinker, a catch
still no one shares his stories nor his romance with the insane
"Give me back my mountain" - punching a hole in the wall, he leaves his fountain
a room for rent with no electricity, all the deeds done by candle light
And the ghost make ghostly sounds that parallel the wretched bound
His open fire set ablaze this old tavern, we barely made it out alive
how the steam did rise and all the clowns did what they knew right
it's what they were trained to do when a moment of crisis arise ~

Fight or flight, fight the light, a riddle for those afraid to fly
it made perfect sense moments before the plane went down
and then he opens his eyes to the smell of pine needles
wiping a tear from her cheek she asks, can we spin it one more time?
Sure baby, we can do whatever we want, now...

As the camera pulls back - both lovers sit in a Victorian final resting place ~

Stream of Consciousness
August 2, 2010
© M. David Powers