Author Information
Cupid
Hi,
Dear Max Polasko,
Degenerate fiasco,
Eyes taste like water, mind like Tabasco,
Mushy ethanol vapors,
Eyes taste like eggs, irises like capers,
I’m disappointed; in myself, in others, in the answers,
In love, in side, in curable cancers,
The little bit of alcohol in my system, the thoughts creating the stew,
Strewn about in the crevices of my existence,
A darkened horizon, hope in the form of a forever persistence,
I met a girl tonight, she plays the cello,
A turbine of turbulence, I tried to keep mellow,
I felt connected despite what I knew,
Hunger for a new attachment or was it one never to be through,
Questions in my mind as she questions silly suicidal scenarios,
Thinking to myself, is she really serious about see-through scary woes,
Who knows, she didn’t, I didn’t – at that it ended,
A few intimate hours, flourishing into the cold night time sky,
Pixie dust draped on my deadened dreams, hoisted only to die,
And so it goes… on and on until the sidewalk ends,
Until relationships bloom, crumble, drift until nothing but words from pens,
Had me contemplating – not about her, not about what she had spoken,
But about me, about my life, about what needs to be fixed and what has broken,
Who knows, she doesn’t, I don’t – and then the thing ended,
The spark, the sparkle, the thing that couldn’t grow because it couldn’t be mended,
It’s been a few years, not much has changed,
People die, people born, people wilted, people deranged,
And I’m in that mix somewhere, along with the goals I’ve long forgotten about,
Along with the grey hairs I vainly pluck, along with crop of hope drought,
And the meaning, what we find meaningful to keep us going,
Children, friends, family, hope, possibility and never truly knowing,
The first three may come and leave,
The second three once left, will be right there help you grieve,
To eradicate reprieve,
To be the tears finding comfort in your shirt sleeve,
And you blink once, twice,
It came, it went, and what you end up with wont’ suffice…
