First-born

There's a lot to be said for the
tendency to self-narrate,
but the undialogued action scenes
are where the money is
and that is
security
and opportunity
and goddammit
happiness
and anyone saying otherwise
is either twenty two
or looking to sell
and vicious cycles
and spirals
at least suggest some change:
progression,
and new experiences
that are just a change in orientation
like an upside-down map of the United States,
as foreign as it gets,
and the pious know this
what with Heaven and hell
and our delicate balance
and the avaricious sinners
scaring the shit out of their children,
sedentary,
and we can't even agree on a set of rules
at least nothing that can stand up to translation
like all the classic cinema,
riding the coattails
of actresses
and I have always been against keeping score
for reasons I've forgotten
and maybe now it would be good to keep score
but if we make survival a common goal
then most of us have succeeded today
and the pigeons and stray dogs
and the small victories
of having not killed ourselves in the eighties
in a mass
of adrenaline soaked inter continental ballistic
missiles flying across the room
shattering across the refrigerator
and falling into asymmetric pieces on the linoleum
and we can at least be thankful
that destruction rarely brings symmetry
though it requires it
but there is plenty of blame to go around
for all the unread letters
and forgotten names
and furor
and sentiment
plotting x y
past future
golden and rust
and changing colors
and you know,
you just know
in your various sized hearts
that it will get better or worse
and economics demands averages:
it will stay the same,
but that all depends
on your definition
of it,
and semantics
and I prefer my cries for help subtle
and rhythmic
with a backbeat
so that at least if no one
comes to my aid
in times of distress
they can nod their heads
and the melody will stay in their collective heads
because what nature has not provided us
will be artificed
but what self
acknowledged
respecting artist
seeks appreciation
when any artist
in these times
seeks only a better
time and place
digging at the cracks
in the sidewalk
and the blacktop
and in any time
and we will take our time
with a slow and a one
and a two
and a three and
because a slow public death
may be the last great form of street theater
expressionism
but it all depends on where you went to school
or how many months you've lived in Brooklyn
says me
who can't even manage to find someplace new
because everywhere I go
there I am
already
still
scared,
wait for my signal.

Past tense

'

and it was a crash we could walk away from,
allowing for some continuity errors:
the spice of life,
getting home to find my dad watching
a videotape of the 1986 Superbowl,
we could.
Are we getting stronger?
Age doesn't seem to work that way,
but what do I know
unable to even hold the thoughts
dragging like anchors along the bottom
clouding the waters
and there are no underwater kingdoms.
God was with us
but you should see the other guy.
Thirty meters
careening:
a physical prediction,
but we live in the moment
in this day and age
and I really am
trying hard to forget so much
and not just the regrets,
not even the regrets.
We live
in cities famous for their walls
long since collapsed
sending unprepared tourists headlong
into a mid-level existential crisis
easily cured by
Going Home
when that's an option.
We will miss out on so much
unless we cheat time,
appreciate the ancient landmarks
and signifiers of our great culture
now, before they're aged
and bleed a little optimism
that they'll stick around
at least as long as we do.
After all the walls
and the heights
dizzying
and other weaknesses
and thoughts
and would you look at that sunset
and that's a lovely dress you're wearing
and we can walk home, it's a terrible day
to fly.