Everyone is Howard Hughes
Everyone is Howard Hughes
At the end, on the edge of the bed
Washing and wringing hands,
dirty faces in the dim light
Flickering fluckering in flux in flames, and the phone keeps ringing....
Is there anybody home?
It’s all about the Me In America
The I is silent
Unpronounceable
All those actors pretending to die
Rehearsing their desperate lines
Putting lives to memory
Impersonations of sad slideshow music
Play the blues forward
for the Red and the Unread,
the Unreachable,
the Dead and Deplorables,
the Unteachables, and The Great Unwashed.
There is no you in America.
But there is a whimpering I in America.
There is a self serving me in America.
Most of all there is a “they”
As in THEY want what we have!
A “they’re”
As in THEY'RE gonna get us!
A “They’ve “
As in THEY’VE waited too long to save us!
Listen, we get one shot,
There is only one life that we can save.
Yes, there will be walls, tunnels,
silos, silver linings, and
a few beautiful halos.
And you will find so many
holes to fall into
Beds to fall out of
and yet here you are on hold
holed up in a Whole Foods
Waiting like Howard Hughes
For the end
Sitting on the edge of your bed
Slightly Intoxicated
Breezy Beautiful and
Perfectly Unrecognizable
Sporting fingernails grown long
past recognition.
