In Favor of a Lesser Hell
I'll take a great view
over money or accolades
any day of the week.
A wide view
from a bridge
stopped at a light,
a thousand meters to the east--
hills of rubble progressing upward,
a thousand meters to the west--
tips of tall buildings
like empty bottles lined up on a fence
for shooting practice,
the taunt of the grandiose city,
cut by the shooting sun,
a cascade of purplish-pinks
splash the sky
like an artist rushing
to answer the doorbell,
knocking over his paint cans
in a panic.
Have you ever been held in a cell?
Have you ever been held against your will
by your self?
Have you been held in a room
as a punishment?
Thru a misunderstanding from a night out at the bar?
For a night until morning?
For 3 months until sentencing?
For a true crime?
I know a man who will never walk free again.
Stemming from a lack of control of his basal instincts
leading to a gruesome fit of jealous rage,
unredeemed love, rejection, murder.
Maybe there are trees
outside the fences there,
maybe there are birds who frequent its branches,
maybe there's some grass too,
it's myriad shapes, on a halted green.
In favor of a lesser hell
I'll take a wide view around me,
absorb it into my eyes,
try and make some sense of it all,
then give up
and give it back
and drive on.