Helicopters as a distraction

                                                    Falling asleep in shopping malls,

The squeaky-clean floors;

The squeaky-clean people;

all chirping like birds.

Talking over the janitors and the few leaves that have blown inside,

                            Taking space away from the  impartial;

                                  Taking space away from the eternal;

Talking points you missed more than once when you decided to sleep so well…

You’re feet will still be propped up,


You wont be getting any massage

While you wait for the bridge to be built,

Buy this tiny remote control  helicopter,

Your remote control self could use a distraction,

                                  While they finish up the bridge…

Fly it all the way up to the ceiling,

Let it believe it can escape and break through the magnificent glass…

Instead it will come  crashing down ,

Like a broken relationship, fractured and in only pieces and debris now,

It will come crashing down in a fountain that long ago stopped attracting any kind of audience,

Narrowly avoiding the mountaintops to the west;

Narrowly avoiding the spires to the east;

                              Along with some coinage still not cleaned out,

                                                                     and some car wash tokens whose value is

very understated…

You’ll still have to  pay for it though,

                     The tiny helicopter,

Not the derelict fountain- it  has already paid it’s debt.

Now let it sleep…

-Like you

Flying  like a shrieking banshee through a mall full of tourists and roundabouts and frozen yogurt,

in your dreams…

                                       Terrified like an animal in captivity,

in your dreams…

Hiding under a blanket to escape the explosions in the sky,

you will  be warm no matter what.

Someone left all the wet floor signs out too,

But at least they blew out the candles…

There has been an increase in bear sightings, and the water spots on the ceiling and you will know the end is near…

                   This is an area with no known bears, and very little rain…

Gaps, and lines and cracks in the pavement  all blister in endless submission

Of the sun and under the feet of lies and elephants  and working too much,

Your face is dirty with those same lines;

Your feet have been crushed by the feet of elephants;

come home,

come home,

and you put your feet back up

                              Each night the door is left unlocked,

(on accident)

and the thermostat is set to 73,

(on purpose)

at least you slept well…

at least you slept well…



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