Thin, Yellow Line- Another Poemy Thang

Thin, Yellow Line

It’s a shift worth mentioning, when the mind sees the end

of a line of code and it makes as much sense as the

process it took to get there,

an alarm ought to sound somewhere-

just anywhere, anywhere

so that songwriters can begin a suitable eulogy

for all bluebirds lost in flight and

spiders pinned wriggling to the wall,

every hopeful decision come to and sent packing like a vagrant

camped by a church.

In a sign worth noticing, my threat has constricted

and my voice subsumed to the process of keening for the

bruises and death it took to get here,

the alarm still blaring like a car alarm in a mail parking lot

so that marketers, whose ignorance is complete, have a campaign

keeping broadcasts lit and telephones ringing and pinging

all mindful creatures pinned and wriggling on the wall

so that most every prudent decision is parsed for inclusion in a blueprint

and used by exclusive accountants and schoolhouse administrator.

I know you’ve a party to attend, my dear,

and the evening is drawing to an inevitable conclusion we’ve seen

for longer than the earth’s been deep in grief from the game-

revel in this hot, thin soup

because we have a date to keep,

a pleasure and a trenchant vision retinal and long-abandoned

by real estate agents, politicians, administrators, and profiteers-

blessed are the meek and the peacemakers, once again.