The Pact
No cumulus clouds.
No harps.
No infinite green hills undulating their way through eternity. Just one big sprawling patch of park at the edge of an ocean and the forgotten splendor of a vast blue sky and one single day that never ends.
One perfect day that never ends. With you.
We are thankful that our dead relatives don’t come to greet us--we never liked them.
It rains, but only long enough to magnify the color of the leaves.
We stumble upon a small pond and see our reflections. Our eyes are angels falling from the sky.
Our favorite music accompanies our gestures. We hold hands to harpsichord music. The friction of our kisses produces Lou Reed’s lyrics: You made me forget myself/I thought I was someone else/someone good…
We do not meet God, but there are other people. Only they are like colorful window dressing or cordial movie extras. They smile and nod, but never intrude upon us.
All the wild animals are friendly and have been liberated from the zoo which now serves as hell and houses the damned. We go there and toss popcorn to the lost souls from across a swollen stream.
We enter and tie for first place in a spontaneous hotdog eating contest.
Stuffed, we stroll down shady paths. We hold our head wounds and laugh because after all isn’t this just one big joke that only we are in on?
No cumulus clouds.
No harps.
No infinite green hills undulating their way through eternity. Just one big sprawling patch of park at the edge of an ocean and the forgotten splendor of a vast blue sky and one single day that never ends.
One perfect day that never ends. With you.
We are thankful that our dead relatives don’t come to greet us--we never liked them.
It rains, but only long enough to magnify the color of the leaves.
We stumble upon a small pond and see our reflections. Our eyes are angels falling from the sky.
Our favorite music accompanies our gestures. We hold hands to harpsichord music. The friction of our kisses produces Lou Reed’s lyrics: You made me forget myself/I thought I was someone else/someone good…
We do not meet God, but there are other people. Only they are like colorful window dressing or cordial movie extras. They smile and nod, but never intrude upon us.
All the wild animals are friendly and have been liberated from the zoo which now serves as hell and houses the damned. We go there and toss popcorn to the lost souls from across a swollen stream.
We enter and tie for first place in a spontaneous hotdog eating contest.
Stuffed, we stroll down shady paths. We hold our head wounds and laugh because after all isn’t this just one big joke that only we are in on?
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