An Eon Ends – final days of the Archon of Romance

She is ratted and haggard and
watching Wheel best I can tell

She smells of lavender and old lace
Speaks of lovers and fallen heroes too numerous to mention
And bangs around the micro-kitchen of
her battered Air Stream in the Old Magnolia Trailer park

I was there when we divided the sky into Day and Night
Told everyone the plots for all the good movies
(That Bard guy, what was his name?
Bill. . . something)
Told every man how to fight and who to heal
Every woman who to marry and what to love.”

She wheezes
pulls a cig from the top of the frig
pours percolated burnt coffee into a chipped china cup

“But those days are gone
We’ve told every story
sang every song
and no one
Absolutely no one
gives the slightest damn 

Eyes once the color of the ocean
grow cold and distant
The hand twitches

“You folks think you’re so sophisticated
so suave and da boner
Bunch a half pissed cynics that think any act of naïveté is a joke
Laugh jackass
the joke’s on you.
You got the games
but do ya have the writers?
You got the machines
but do you have the Heart?
God how you love zombies. . .
Better dead on the outside
than dead on the inside. . .”

She fixes a TV dinner and checks the broiler oven twice
(It got away from her once and burnt Chicago to the ground)
She digs under the couch and pulls out a sweater she knitted
from the hair of the dead poets
She leans back in the sagging chair

“Yeah these modern times
They will be ending soon enough
When I’m gone you inherit the earth

And then who are you going to blame?”

Leave her there
(She’ll be OK)

Pay her cable bill
Send the Christmas card

Re-learn how to pray

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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