Moments

Moments

Moments tumble, fumble, through
the darkness into an empty haze.
Poor satellite images signal
through, the black and the white
film Noir chic alabaster skin.

Reflections mirror pain and
loneliness that can only be
captured by a million maybe
tomorrows.

This wasn’t the Deal. It wasn’t in the
cards. The echoes of broken
promises that leave their mark
etched and burned as yet another
warning to others.

Can he heal?

Mr. Fly by Night is down for the count. Can he ever feel, safe
again, brave again sane enough to
let his fragile guard down again.

The control tower fizzles electric dialogue, tries to reach him,
answering a long outstanding
S.O.S.

“Get down fella, keep your nose to
The pavement. You got sumthin’ to
Say… You better save it”

The shiny barrel of a Colt 44,
catches a glint of moonlight.

Menacing and calculated, spread eagle on the concrete air-strip that
lifts off to anywhere-ville, he
foresees hair, scalp, blood and brain matter painted red flesh over yellow lane dividers.

Ripcord PoP!
Echo through the British Majestatis Province. In a world of black and gold, so much white. A thief to liars trial by fire, to give and give and never get.

The sound of muted thunder hits the ground like whet cement. Guilty of yearning, pagnes of repression amongst the depression, all crapped out on the whole ball of wax, reading between the sidelines, going head blind… on last breath, one last thought all for naught…

Just how could he, laying in a pool of ever growing flowing blood, only feel the pain left behind from simply …
a broken heart.

MB93
2022