You meander around, though your existence is disintegrating rapidly
the battle to fight time is always a losing one.
Tattoos fade and turn into zombie colors and your body forms into a womans' figure
all that's hidden under the flesh, will always break through the surface
cells, swimming through rivers of whisky, will drown and decrease in numbers
yet, your heart is big, and wide, like bug eyes and fireworks on the fourth of july
but it's also drained, and nearly empty ;
those who surround you just want to slurp up what's left inside.
I wish a giant hand would spread open the sky, and guide you to what is still good.
I can see that your dreams were once as big as jupiter.
bunnies hide in the grass on your lawn and tell you secret messages
that can lead you back to good memories of the old sphere you once frolicked on top of.
- Marilyn Metzger
Long Island, 2011