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Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Afterglow



We crossed the country
bathed in beatitudes,
the transmission leaking oil
clear across the continent 
to the Orange glow hovering
on the Western horizon.

My bridal veil flowed
out the window,
my virginity the hood ornament
on the old blue Mercury 
as we tried marriage 
on for size, rolling
the flavor on our tongues
like SweetTarts,
cheap but tasty. 

As quickly as we rushed
into that foul folly, 
we hesitated
to bring it to a close.

You collapsed under 
the weight of it all
and I, hardened by your
rage and drama, signed the papers
as quickly as I did the parchment
that got us into this mess
in the first place.

It's time to leave 
the Golden Promise, retrace
that oily trail to its start
where trees still stand after
300 years and family welcomes you
home, no matter what
you've done or where you've gone
or whom you've become.

But it's never quite behind you,
that Orange glow, no matter
what comes next.
It's always there, waiting
to remind you that no matter
how wise you think you are,
how worldly or sophisticated,
you're still a damned fool.  Just old now,
and not so pretty anymore.


~ Elodie Pritchartt October, 2007


Photo by Jeff Ackerman

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