Sunday, April 16, 2017

Crusade












Crusade


No one wants the good china. Meet me
at the safe house. Pry up a few floorboards
and you are sure to find an old beer bottle.
Who wants my head on a platter? Pencil in
time for friends and enemies. The billet-doux
was lost in the move. Life is not packed in 
styrofoam. I’ll take a riot over the ho-hum.
Devastation over racquetball. I will sign
your petition if you will sign mine. Change
should not require forms. My resentments
come in triplicate. Joys in hot pink neon.
Do you want the egg-salad or the gospel?
Own up to your hurts. My style is foreign
so the heart suffers. Obligations possess me
until I feel like an old rolled-up tube of glue.
How did I get stuck in this meat locker?
At least, I have Dante and Beyoncé to keep
me company. Careers are scams. I am waiting
for the next great crusade. Let it be sharing
our inner lives. Tapestries of secrets. The
past de-classified, and still parts omitted.
Who needs to be a prisoner of blue skies?
Ante up on hope, and I will double-down
on happiness. Fly your banners. I give you
my assurance of a promised march over lands
full of pay-day loans, corporate retreats. Let me
put my armour on. This takes several years.

By Chris Banks 
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