She Falters

Imaginings beyond
flourescent imprint tiles

floating somewhere

wondering how she got here
in the first place

was it when she saw the grotesque picture
of human skeletons copulating?
that death couldn't shake free from her mind?

now she's locked
in sheeted answers between
folded tucks
perfected by nurses' standards

she sprinkles crumbs silently
for the single-filed ants
marching to the cafeteria

How did everything become so small-scoped
when once ideas of India
mattered so muchly,
and politicking was fare conversation

Yet life feels safe for the first time
gurneyed by others taking over

is this how peace forces herself?

a funny thing, this shock of death's stare
lures us to no longer care
enticing us to think it all didn't matter
why bother trying to make somehting anymore?

who carries the newspaper headline of the next bomb scare to heaven, anyways?

though, she discovered, regrets don't seem to melt away
on rivers of bullrushed babies

hearts untouched and agitated linger in the mind
wishing to undo it all over again this time

At some point in youth she cared how others felt,
enough to make good impressions

when was all of that lost?
the busyness of passersby took over
and she just threw it all over to her wonderland of fancy

leaving only red wine's taste on her lips
recounting light kisses from long-ago partings
when no one in the world noticed this perfect freedom
from the stares of envious blubberings

"While I sipped champagne on a yacht,
moved like Harlo in Monte Carlo..."

Amusing the haughty chance to dance
till the stars shone brightly over
stark skylines of typical rooftops in Montreal and Maine stages

It all seemed so perfectly easy
this life of no one fully in, she fully out

Bouncing between the human facades of taboo places
never afraid to jaunt into bars where good girls don't trespass
why not?
Walking past others who are brawling through arm-in-arm advances

Night life
street life
cool life
simple life
vodka paralyzer 2-for-1 special life

jiving her jazzing short-dressed spinning tales

those rigid rules of order
"why says?": a quote reacquainted by her father, 20 years later

28 years old finds her at the sickened gate
where she can line up with the other barmaid floozies
humiltated by life's impetuous reality--
she will get old, bones brittle, ugly and unwanted
just like all the other women she pitied and laughed at
when she was 20

"luckily"
(tho' that attitude about it took some time)
the redeeming letter came in the mail
of her mother turning over a new grave
by the thought of her brother owning the house
back in the East Coast

She had to return, with embarrassed glances of familiar faces
oldened by time's arrogant passing
her horror of this stupid game of "life that precludes death"
sucking the joy of vibrancy and youth from her hips

Passion faltered on some front or back doorstep
in some fool's garden behind an iron-gated snobster's mansion.

She grabs the meat of her upper arms and tries to hold on

The prick of the needle, medicine's numbness
every night at 6 o'clock
better than those news stories.
Better than facing Time's mocking
Better than showing the world the shame of a woman who walked
as if death would never catch her.