by Gerard Donnelly Smith

Leave this messy house behind:
the arguments piled up like dirty dishes,
the denials hidden like dust bunnies,
beneath the polished floors of our daily routine.

Behind the lips, our teeth shine:
sincerity reflects from the well-ground lens
with which children torture other children
upon the concrete sidewalks of our lovely neighborhoods.

Shine this light upon the route of our escape:
the dead ends and wrong turns illuminate,
the choices seen piled up like fatal accidents,
upon the well-paved thoroughfares of our rapid transience.

Escape this petty, bourgeois lifestyle:
the accumulated fashion and furniture,
the comforts work like an anesthetic
upon the central nervous system or our fiscal responsibility.

Leave now, before the Villagers torch the house:
frustration progresses into outright rebellion
with which monsters overthrow monsters
upon the revisionist screen of our collective memory.

Torch this house and all its shining artifacts:
reject the security brightly proffered;
deny the acquiescence so easily adopted
piled-up behind the revolving doors of our corporate egos.

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