Читать книгу The Wish Book - Alex Lemon - Страница 14

Ghost Rock

O there are so many

Mixed signals in this life—

This way, highway, that

Half, no way, not even

Halfway. The next day

Is all Beep. Bop. Boop.

Can you hear me

Now, motherfucker?

But you & I are both lost,

O so lost. At night, God,

Or some other blowhard,

Whispered in my dreams,

If you love danger you’ll die

By it, so I stopped playing tag

With bottle rockets & Roman

Candles. The fourth-story

Window was no longer an option

On the list of things I want

To leap out of before I die.

But I can’t help it—I had to

Smash through the sliding

Door & pose like the Heisman

Trophy to show all the people

At my birthday party that glass

& I are pretty much the same

Thing. It’s made me think

About it a bit more. Both

Billy Joel & Iron Maiden—

Even that one-armed drummer

From Def Leppard—say only

The good die young, right?

So, what about being a bit

Of both? Containing more

Than they want me to?

I know, I know, who do I

Think I am? I can hardly

Fathom the one thing I want

To know: when I flatten a hand

Against my sleeping boy’s belly

Why do I feel a tiny paradise howling

Through my ribs? The way we fawn over

The untarnished beauty of skin

Is precious & cancerous, I suppose.

What is he, but a pulsing sack

Of wheeze? Help me, please.

Tell me, please. I will beg.

What is this rough magic

That fills me, this blaze

That keeps pushing us on?