Thursday, January 12, 2012

August Gift

Dark, vaulted ceiling

Room smoldering with curiosity

Black and white checkerboard floor

Game afoot

Set in stone

No turning back now

No symmetry,

Trapezoids cause my collapse.

White Grecian columns hide

A lurking shadow:

Jell-O Man moves, bounces,

Falls, bounces back

I mirror his steps


With the grace of a prima ballerina

My face falls through

The ashen theatrical mask

Covering the identity

Of an emotionless jester,

Confused and lost, he falls again

And bounces back

In his multicolored paisley togs

Under a valiant black cape

Lined with harlequin-esque majesty

Venerably reaching forward

For me

Pulling, grasping

With warrior courage

I acquiesce.

Laughter overwhelms the playful charade

As I assimilate his last gasp of air

And become him.

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