By Colin James
Ethereal influences are our decor.
Choosing these knee high tables
has us feigning cross-leggedness on the floor.
For me to roll in your direction
requires a yogi’s dexterity I do not possess,
so rapture still defies me unwillingly.
The shapes that pass our nervous windows
are asking too much when they try
to project ceremonial clairvoyance.
Directions to the nearest institution
are clearly stated on four of the walls.
Simply take a continuous series
of right hand turns to arrive.
If possible avoid the second,
as a surprising number of infidels have
relieved themselves, metaphorically, there.
Territorial lines are quite specific,
when outnumbered run.
If all avenues of escape demure,
put on a good show.
Tomahawks and knives, then flint phase.
Skull crushing, nothing extraordinary.
Better than being found hiding in a tree,
archery practice for the youngsters.
Pain is not the only reciprocal
of the ineffectual martyr.
Colin James has a couple of chapbooks of poetry published. Dreams Of The Really Annoying from Writing Knights Press and A Thoroughness Not Deprived of Absurdity from Piski’s Porch Press and a book of poems, Resisting Probability, from Sagging Meniscus Press
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