Binge Hangar

You never think
It could happen to you

This fake life
Filled with ugly faces

You too
You've gone sour too

There were those times like big time
Then gone flat and puffy at the seams

Where did your secret fire go
That belly light that drew things in

Now rusty wires and pipes seem wicked
The magic having transferred

There is some kid living in context
You're melting

No time left to behave badly
Shave and get ready for work

Others were prepared, spectrum-ready
You, with pan flute and boots

When did that become cumbersome
The lot of it dried up and cranberried

You can't pass
You must drink

And on other foolish footpaths
You must stumble toward rocks

Looking into the woods for mirrors
But today only meat

life in reversE

Life in reverse
Not quite as fun
Unless you are losing a boxing match
Or getting a haircut in the winter

When a celebrity dies
They envy the poet
What is clenched in life
Has no real claws in the after

Then there is the train
That mundane delivery
Making mice of men
And mountains of mice

Perhaps in five billion
Things will reach the top and start sliding backwards
Making babies of us all
Once, twice -- however long it takes to unwind or rev up again