Let’s ride this gravy train
until it runs off the rails.
In time, what ails us will be
that which gives us a reason for staying alive.
What were you saying
as I was swaying in the afternoon sun,
stunned by your stillness,
the fullness of the light pouring in me
and out of me like so many rancid truths?
“You’ve got to remain aloof,
you’ve got to kill your compassion
with a kiss on the lips.”
The words have slipped through this page.
The age of accident is dawning.
The digital age is yawning,
pulling its eyelids down
for its rose-colored slumber.
In the background, we lumber along
like clouds encumbered
with heavy suits of rain.
Strained to excess, awaiting
that moment where we can cast off
our garments and run naked
and giddy into the blue.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 