the Cost of It All

Posted on the 17 July 2014 by Gray Eyed Athena @grayeyedowl

Trade is the buckle of this world’s belt, shiny with dollar signs.

And I know Tibetan windstorms necklace the waking bodies of San Diego.  And I know why Muhammad Ali stood over Sonny Liston flexing.

And I know as we age our tongues grow numb from lying.

And I know in a biblical sense the gust of a humid afternoon.

And I know in chronological and alphabetical order, nothing.

And I know riding in an elevator is as close as one can get to the present.

And I know devotion and honor flicker in Atlanta strip clubs.

And I know why the Chevy Nova couldn’t sell in Mejico.

Moon beams of finely threaded rope sway in the wind.  At their end, price tags.

But I wish John Lennon was born with Ringo’s nose.

And I wish there were more virgins for me to find and report.

And I wish when she called, the phone protected me.

And I wish every time the moon three-point turns in the asphalt night.

And I wish on continental spots of leapards that California broke into the sea.  And I wish Che’s face symbolized more than pimpled years of angst.

And I wish upon a pan with a skiing square of butter headed for steam.

And I wish to tiptoe and hear over the fence of my own teeth.

I have tried to figure the cost of it all with lint and paperclips.

-The Cost Of It All by David Tomas Martinez